In Too Deep
by Kimmy.Tosh
Summary: The road to hell is paved with good intentions...
1. Chapter 1

_**In Too Deep**_

_The road to hell is paved with good intentions…_

_**Disclaimer:**_

_Some of the characters depicted below are components of the Thunderbirds Universe, the rights to which are currently held by Carlton. At present, no financial consideration is received in the publishing of this work. Any characters not identifiable with the Thunderbirds Universe are my creation and remain my property._

_**Author's Note:**_

_I've been working on this story since January 2006. It's been a long, hard process and it's only through blood, sweat and plenty of tears that it's finally complete. It's been an education and I hope it's an improvement on some of my past efforts. _

_Before we begin, there are a few thank-yous to hand out. Firstly, to Amanda, Marg, Pen and Lynn who have all leant me their Beta-ing skills and opinions in one form or another. I know I've said this before but you ladies have played a big part in the completion of this story – without any one of you, it would be ten times worse. (If you don't believe me, just ask Marg, she was unlucky enough to read the REALLY bad drafts!) Pen and Marg, particularly, have been constantly helping me to improve even when that help hasn't been easy to provide, very often spending time just listening to my frustrations and convincing me that this was worth finishing. Equally, Lynn has had a mammoth task on her hands in taking my Briticisms and turning them into Americanisms!! Thank you._

_Secondly, thanks to Tikatu who helped me out with a few comic facts about the Mole – much appreciated! _

_Thirdly, Agent 5 and Dawn Rice; thank you for all of your advice too – some of which is reflected a little later on and some of which became redundant but thank you anyway!_

_It should be noted that about two months into me actually starting to write this tale, a story materialised as part of the TIWF fic-swap challenge that contained a few comparisons. Without giving too much away about the plot at this point, the author of that story and I agree that whilst the subject matter and chief protagonists of our stories may be broadly similar, we take the issues in entirely different directions._

_When uploading a story, I normally try to post chapters regularly but apologies in advance, because my current situation regarding access to a computer/internet will make this difficult. Chapters will be posted as soon as I can, though I can't guarantee when or how often._

_  
Anyway, enough from me, on with the show…_

**In Too Deep**

Space.

An endless frontier.

More specifically a silent, endless frontier.

Above the soft beeps of machinery and ongoing chatter of radio channels, a gentle snoring was all that could be heard. Night on Thunderbird Five was a lot like night on Tracy Island; quiet, calm and still. John Tracy was tucked up in bed and sleeping like the proverbial baby. A small smile ghosted his features, an outward indicator of his pleasant dreams. He mumbled and rolled over in his sleep, unconsciously tightening the covers around him. For a few seconds he might've opened his eyes but instead he sighed and drifted back to the world of his contented sub-conscious.

The soft beeps of machinery were becoming louder, though.

Lights began to flash on numerous control panels.

John continued to sleep, unaware that words such as 'danger', 'help' and 'International Rescue', were being broadcast amongst the incoming, meaningless chatter. With an eerie glow, the large red indicator above the recorder began to flash and the tape wheels were set in motion after a muted click. Someone, somewhere in the world uttered those immortal words…

"Calling International Rescue…. Calling International Rescue…"

John's eyes snapped open at the sound of the beeping console coming to life, shattering all illusion of peace and tranquillity. Pulling on his robe, he hurried into the control room to answer the call, without a second thought for his soothing dreams. His bare feet slapped against the hard floor of Thunderbird Five but he didn't flinch at the contact with the cold metal; his mind was already on the job at hand. As he reached for the microphone, he allowed himself the luxury of a glance at his reflection; it was one of those times when he was grateful to be in solitude.

"Calling International Rescue…."

"This is International Rescue, what's your situation?" John asked, trying not to sound as though he's just tumbled out of bed.

"Oh, International Rescue, thank God! We need your help! You've got to help us!"

"Okay," he adopted the soothing tones he always used to keep the caller calm. "First you need to calm down and tell me what the problem is…"

XxxxX

Within a few minutes, John had opened up a channel with Base and was explaining the details to his father, "So, you see father the laboratory is underground meaning normal fire fighting methods are out of the question. And those three scientists trapped down there are asking for our help."

"Not another one!" Jeff Tracy groaned and let his head drop into his hands. "Whose idea was it to put all these research centers underground anyway?" he grumbled. "Alright John," he looked up to meet his son's image, "tell them we're on our way and get as much information as you can."

"FAB." John signed off, just as Scott entered the lounge.

Scott had already been up and half way through showering when he'd been summoned. He approached his father's desk, already bursting with energy and fully alert.

"Was that John? What's the situation?" he asked, anxious for news. The adrenaline pumping just at the prospect of a rescue call.

"Research laboratory in Wales," Jeff told him with raised eyebrows. "Apparently there was a big explosion, though they're not sure why…" he rolled his eyes.

"Let me guess?" Scott smirked. "Trapped scientists; a job for the Mole and some oxhydnite. Sounds pretty simple," he shrugged.

Jeff nodded, turning to Brains and Virgil as they made their way into the room and sat on the sofa opposite his desk. "More t-trapped scientists, M-Mr. Tracy?" Brains asked with a frown

"Afraid so, Brains. This is a job for you, Virgil; take the Mole and fire fighting gear. Head for England, John'll give you more information as soon as we have it." Jeff glanced between his two eldest sons, "Okay, off you go."

"Yes Sir!" Scott smiled and headed over to the passageway that would take him through to Thunderbird One.

Virgil meanwhile, rolled his eyes at his brother's enthusiasm and responded with a much calmer, "Sure, Dad."

Jeff turned back to Brains, "You know, I don't know why they still build these places underground, Brains." He shook his head, "It's blatantly obvious that we don't have the resources to control them when things get out of hand."

Brains frowned, "Well, there are err a-arguments either w-way Mr. err Tracy. The i-idea is that any l-leaks can be err q-quarantined because the whole f-facility is under- underground." He looked up to meet Jeff's gaze, a little uneasy at questioning the Tracy patriarch, "It was a err g-good idea at the t-time a lot of these p-places were err being built."

"Well I hope they've learned their lessons," Jeff told him with a scowl. The engineer nodded but didn't have time to reply before John called through with another update. "Go ahead Son," Jeff acknowledged as he sat forward, ready to listen to John's findings.

"Father, I've sent Scott and Virgil the coordinates and briefed them already. It seems this place has been testing the effects of nuclear warfare." John raised an eyebrow, waiting for the predictable response from his father.

"Great," Jeff replied sarcastically. "Okay, John, go on. What else?"

"The three scientists are trapped well below the ground; two steel blast doors came down after the explosion trapping them in place. All the other personnel have been evacuated by normal procedure but these three have been caught in one of the laboratories." John explained in a calm, steady voice. He was an old hand now at liaising between his father, his brothers and the victims on the other end of the line. "The guys in charge seem pretty calm, Father. The fire's close but Scott and Virgil will have them out before it becomes a real problem."

"Does Scott have a plan yet?" Jeff frowned.

"Sure," John replied, exuding confidence. "Virgil thinks it'll only take him about five to ten minutes to cut through the steel doors if he uses the oxhydnite. They're going to drill down in the Mole and cut the scientists free."

Jeff gave a nod, agreeing with the plan. "What about the fire, John?"

"Well, Dr. Hunt, the head scientist has already shut down all the air vents, so once the scientists have been removed we can leave the fire to burn out. Right, Brains?" John looked down at the engineer, in the bottom right hand corner of his screen.

"As err l-long as all the err o-oxygen supply is c-cut off John," Brains began, offering the blond astronaut a grimace of calculation before continuing. "There's err less o-oxygen under err underground anyway. The fire should b-burn out." He nodded, approving of the plan. "Doesn't the f-facility have its own err f-fire fighting equipment, built into the structure?"

"Yeah, Brains, that's already working." John nodded, "I don't think the fire's going to pose a problem. The facility's own system seems to be containing it at the minute."

"John," Jeff waited for Brains nod of agreement before turning back to his son with a concerned frown. "You said they were testing nuclear warfare, what are the dangers of chemical leaks or further explosions?"

"Well, the research center protocol means that any aggressive substances are locked away in specially designed cabinets. They're heat resistant, so any further explosions are unlikely as the fire seems to be under control now." John told his father, he shrugged indicating that he didn't think it posed a problem, "They think the first explosion may have been caused by some gas canisters that were wrongly labelled."

"Well that just fills you with confidence," Jeff sighed. "Okay, John. Keep me informed."

John agreed to his father's request, before closing the link down.

Jeff sat back at his desk with a heavy sigh. From the moment John had called this one in, he'd had a sinking feeling in his gut. He hated sending his sons out to face the unknown at the best of times, but today was different. There was a little voice deep inside of him screaming out that this mission wasn't going to be as 'simple' as Scott had declared earlier.

And deep down in his heart and soul, Jeff Tracy believed it.

He couldn't explain how or why, but he knew. He had a feeling this was going to be a tough one.

XxxxX

Scott Tracy could never say that flying at the phenomenal speeds that Thunderbird One reached could ever be tedious or boring. But at some point during the three years International Rescue had been operational he'd come to the conclusion that flying to the danger zone was very similar to flying to any destination; it always took twice the time to get there as it did to get home.

Adrenaline already pumping his system into a state of full alert, he had to admit it felt pretty good to cruise along at 12,000 mph. He'd formulated a plan long ago and now his mind was sifting through the possibilities of what he would face in Wales. He was functioning on automatic pilot; skilled and well practiced, his hands operated the controls without any conscious effort whilst his brain worked overtime.

Scott was in full field commander mode and ready to take on their latest challenge with enthusiasm.

"Thunderbird Five calling Thunderbird One," John's voice startled him out of his thought process and he reached for the radio, activating the headset he wore.

"Thunderbird One, go ahead John," he acknowledged the call. "You got some more information for me?"

"Sure have," came the cheery reply. "I'm in contact with the three trapped scientists, I'm trying to keep them calm but they're a bit agitated, Scott. By the time you arrive the area will be clear of everything and everyone except the two guys I've been in contact with on the surface. Over two hundred and thirty people have been evacuated successfully. They've been taken to a hospital, some suffered smoke inhalation." John saw his older brother nod but continued, "The center's in a small clearing in the hills, I've already sent through some coordinates; there's two or three options of places that look pretty safe for you and Virgil to land, going on the information I have up here anyway."

"Okay," Scott smiled, his serious commander authority settling around him. "Thanks, John. Who are the guys you were talking to on the surface?"

"Oh err, Dr Hunt, he's the head scientist. He's in charge of the scientists down there and he knows the research center pretty well so I figured you might need his expertise. And then there's also a Matt Foster, he's the chief fire marshal there and can liaise with any external emergency services, if we need them. Though I think conventional rescue services will struggle to reach the area. They should both be on the ground waiting for you," John informed his brother, waiting for any questions Scott might have.

"The research center has its own chief fire marshal?" Scott questioned, raising his eyebrow in surprise.

From the screen projecting John's image, he could see his brother reflect his own surprise. "Yeah, it pretty much has everything. It's self contained, according to the blueprints I have up here. The scientists have their own rooms and there are even restaurants and a movie theater down there."

"You've got to be kidding me!" Scott grinned and shook his head. "The place must be huge!" he exclaimed.

"Its stretches about four and a half miles by two," John told him. "It's all underground except for the entrance though, so it doesn't look that big." He paused, "In fact, I'm picking up local news reports that aren't saying anything about a research center; it's almost as if they don't know it's there. It is pretty much in the middle of nowhere though."

Scott knew what his brother was getting at, "Out of sight…"

"Out of mind," John completed Scott's sentence in an absent tone. "Yeah, that's what I was thinking too," his glum expression said it all. "I'll keep an ear out, I'll be interested to see how they explain this explosion if the research center isn't known about."

"Yeah, I agree, but if there's no-one for miles then no-one will have heard it anyway," Scott replied with an abundance of cynicism. "I'm beginning to get a bad feeling about this John," he admitted. "Keep in touch with those scientists trapped underground and try to keep them as calm as possible. Let me know if there are any developments."

"FAB," John signed off and Scott went back to thinking about what action he would take when he arrived at the danger zone.

John's latest discovery meant that he was now thinking from a very different perspective. They'd dealt with top secret operations before, so it wasn't as if this would be the first call they'd had to a destination not widely publicised. Most of the time, it worked in their favour; no press attention meant they could be in and out with little fuss. The authorities were always willing to play the incidents down; nine times out of ten, they were just grateful for International Rescue's help.

This one could still go either way though, he concluded with a sigh. His previous enthusiasm was dissipating as he put in a call to Virgil.

XxxxX

John sipped at the coffee in his hands as he studied the blueprints on the screen in front of him. One of the few luxuries of being on Thunderbird Five was that, whilst his brothers were getting cold, dirty and hungry, he could direct them from the warmth of Thunderbird Five's leather control chair, coffee in hand. Sometimes, that thought made him feel incredibly guilty. But then, he'd been on his own share of rescues and he knew how it worked. Whether it was Alan or he, whoever was in Thunderbird Five during a rescue played an important role in making it a success; coordination and communication between base and the field was imperative. Not to mention the research. Research was of crucial importance in any rescue; Scott had to know where he was going and what he was facing. Virgil had to know what machinery would be needed and whether he would need an extra pair of hands.

Nobody could ever accuse John Tracy of having an easy job; from the moment a rescue call came in, he was gathering information, mediating between parties and assessing the dangers. One of the most important of tasks was to keep the rescue victims calm in the time between the call and Scott arriving on the scene.

He stopped his study of the blueprints and turned to the radio in order to do just that; check in on the trapped men.

"Jake? Jake can you hear me?" he asked into the microphone.

"Yeah, yeah we can hear you," came back the reply. The anxietyin the voice was a familiar sound to John and he responded with an ease of familiarity.

"How are you doing down there?" he asked, studying the blueprints and making notes as he spoke. Multi tasking was another undertaking Thunderbird Five's operative had to be good at.

"Not so good," Jake responded. His sigh crackled through the speakers and it sounded loud. "It's damned hot down here. How long before your friends arrive?" his voice came back, a little stronger than before.

"Don't you worry," John told him. "They're on their way, they'll be there soon. What about your other colleagues, are they okay?" John listened more carefully to hear them mutter responses as Jake asked.

"Billy's okay," Jake's reply rustled through, "but Luke's freaking out a bit. I think he's claustrophobic, he doesn't like the idea that we're trapped."

John frowned hard. The fact that a scientist with claustrophobia would work in an underground research facility was more than surprising; it didn't make sense. He turned back to the microphone, "Okay," he soothed, "you just try to keep him as calm as possible, Jake. Listen, why don't you tell me a bit about what you're working on?"

John was unsurprised but slightly panicked when there was clear hesitation on the other end of the line.

"Jake?" he asked, hoping to prompt the scientist into an explanation. "Jake, can you hear me?"

"Yeah," Jake replied. The stressin his voice had been replaced by something else. Something John couldn't put his finger on, but it was harsh and cold. "Yeah, I can hear you. It's just…" he trailed off. John got the feeling that he didn't know what to say. "It's just we can't tell you," Jake blurted out.

John frowned, the immediate question on his lips was why but he refrained from asking. He needed to know the truth about just what his brothers were walking in to and he wasn't about to get that if he didn't proceed with caution.

"I see," John replied, doing his best to keep his cool. "Jake," he was cautious of antagonising the situation, "we need to know what we're heading in to so as we can be prepared to deal with it. We want to get you and your buddies out of there but you need to tell us exactly what the situation is. You understand, right?"

"Of course I do!" Jake snapped back. John put the response down to the obvious fact that the scientist was harassed and waited for him to expand his response. "We've told you everything; we just need you to get us out of here. The fire's closing in."

"You've got plenty of time," John told him, stern but steady, "the fire isn't that close to you; it's being contained. We'll have you out of there before it gets that near. Are you sure there's nothing else we should be aware of?"

"I told you, no!" Jake barked back.

"Okay, I'm just going to check on my colleagues' progress, all right?" John's eyes were already glancing towards the GPS readings from Thunderbirds One and Two. "I'll get right back to you, but I need you to stay calm and keep talking between yourselves."

"Sure," Jake's response wasn't filled with the bite it had been before. Nor were there any traces of the apprehension John would have expected in someone trapped below ground.

Scowling as he scanned the information in front of him, he opened up a channel with Base.

XxxxX

"It shouldn't take that long; did John say how thick those blast doors were?"

Scott Tracy nodded his head. He was still anxious but in his heart of hearts his unease had been reduced throughout this conversation by a considerable amount. Sometimes, just the sound of Virgil's voice was enough to settle any apprehension he felt. Scott knew from experience, his brother was nothing if not consistent and steady; an anchor in the choppiest of waters.

"About 200mil I think," Scott shrugged.

"Oh," Virgil hesitated, surprised. "I was basing my calculations on about 100mil. Those doors are thick," he exclaimed, clearly surprised. "Still, that's only what?" Scott watched as Virgil shrugged and a calculating frown crossed his features. "Say it's fifteen minutes per door, that's a worst case scenario. It'll still only take half an hour to cut through the doors," Virgil stated with confidence. "That's half an hour cutting time. We could be in and out within an hour."

"Yeah, sounds good," Scott nodded in reply. "Have the Mole ready as soon as you land, will you?" Virgil didn't need to reply, so Scott continued, "I'm already calculating gradients and co-ordinates. John sent through some landing spots, did you take a look?"

"Yeah," Virgil nodded, "I did."

"Good," Scott replied. "I'll let you know which one to use when I land. I'm about ten minutes away now; how far are you behind me?"

Virgil stopped a groan from escaping his lips, "Twenty three minutes exactly, Scott."

"Okay," much to Virgil's surprise, Scott's reply was calm. "I'll let you know the situation as soon as I land; there should be the chief fire marshal and the head scientist on the ground to meet me. John's on the line with the three trapped scientists, he's trying to keep them calm and he's been studying the blueprints so he'll be able to direct you to exactly where you need to be."

"That'll be a help. What about after we've reached the surface?" Virgil queried. "Will they need transportation to a hospital?"

"Well, they're not injured as far as we know," Scott thought aloud. "Though, they may need checking over, they'll probably be in shock. We should be prepared to airlift them out," he decided. "I'll get John onto it."

"Won't there be emergency vehicles at the scene?" Virgil frowned. "Couldn't they transport them?"

"Apparently it's a difficult place to get to; it's pretty much off the beaten track. Emergency personnel have been on the scene but they'll all be gone by the time we get there," Scott told his brother. "We could arrange for an ambulance to get through but it'd be difficult to get to the exact location; it's in a clearing on rough terrain. It'd be quicker and safer to airlift them out."

"Yeah, you're right." Virgil nodded. "Okay, I could do that once I have the Mole stowed away."

"Or you could take them across to the nearest hospital as soon as you get to the surface. If you left the pod, I could have the Mole ready to go by the time you got back," Scott suggested.

"Yeah, sounds good to me," Virgil agreed. "Though maybe we should concentrate on getting them out first," he added.

Scott's reply was distracted by a flashing light on his console, indicating an incoming call. "Yeah, listen Virg," he said. "I've got a call from John; I'll let you know what it's like when I land."

Virgil signed off with a cheerful "FAB."

XxxxX

"Okay John," Jeff sighed and nodded towards the portrait that framed his blond son's features. "Let Scott know, will you?"

"FAB," the feed winked out and Jeff found himself faced with two curious expressions.

"So what do you think Dad?" Gordon was the first to voice his thoughts, still clad in his robe "There sure is more to these scientists than meets the eye."

"You can say that again," Alan nodded from the sofa, where he sat alongside his brother. "What are we going to do?"

"Now listen boys, let's not overreact." Jeff, as always, kept a level head. "We don't know anything for sure yet."

"But father," Gordon cried, "you heard what John said. They don't seem like scientists to him and he's worked alongside plenty of scientists when he was at NASA, he should know."

"Yes Gordon, but I'm pretty sure people don't suspect us to be International Rescue; we shouldn't judge a book by its cover," Jeff frowned, thinking through his options. Despite what he'd just said, he hated to think the research centre were keeping things from them. In order for the rescue to be successful it was imperative they got their facts right first. "Those scientists are mighty scared down there; they might not be themselves right now. Maybe with a little encouragement on John's part they'll tell him what they've been working on."

"What if it's dangerous, Father? Scott and Virgil could be walking into some kind of chemical explosion!" Alan frowned in concern for his eldest brothers.

"John'll find out and let us know what they were working on," Jeff sighed and found his gaze on the portrait that hung on the far end of the wall. "In the meantime…"

All eyes followed his line of sight.

"Lady Penelope, Father?" Alan asked, "You really think she can help?"

"Sure she can," Gordon replied for his father. "She's got contacts in the government; she could do some digging and find out what the hell's going on at that center. It's a great idea, Dad!" he enthused.

"You've got to admit, Father, things aren't adding up," Alan supported his brother's line of reasoning.

"Yeah," Gordon nodded again. "The evacuees were flown straight to a high security hospital in Kent," he paused for effect, "Why there? I've checked and there are closer hospitals than Kent."

"You don't think it's a trap do you, Father?" Alan cut in quickly, his frown became a deep scowl and his eyes widened.

"Even if it is, how does that change things?" Gordon asked, sitting forward in his chair. "We can't turn back if there's even the slightest chance that those scientists need our help."

"Gordon's right," Jeff nodded. "Those scientists are trapped. There's no mistake about it, John's traced their call to exactly where they say they are. We're their only chance at survival. Now let's not go jumping ahead of ourselves. John's going to report back with what he's managed to get out of the scientists. In the meantime, I've got a call to make…"

That nagging feeling in his gut took on a completely new meaning as he reached forward to contact Lady Penelope.

XxxxX

In the grounds of her Foxleyheath mansion and deep under the cover of forest, Lady Penelope Creighton-Ward was rather busy. Her distinctive Rolls Royce could just be made out in the background as she stood in a wire cage, to one side of a carefully cordoned off paddock. Loaded shot gun at the ready, she took a few moments to soak in the peacefulness around her.

"Pull!" The words were spoken with such delicacy but were loud enough for Parker to hear the command and the sounds of two clays firing into the air could be heard. Immediately after the two shots that followed, both clays dropped to the ground, broken.

"H'excellent shooting, M'Lady," Parker smiled. "Sh'all h'I ready h'another round?"

"Yes, Parker," Penelope replied as she turned to her butler, elegant to the last. "Though I think I shall try with my other shotgun. This one seems a little heavy," she weighted the weapon in her hand before breaking it and passing it to her chauffeur.

"Very good, M'Lady," Parker responded. "H'I shall go h'and fetch your h'other gun."

"Thank you, Parker," she watched him walk over to the Pink Rolls Royce, distracted only by the gentle bleeping coming from her handbag. She retrieved the bag from its precarious perch on a wooden post and held out her compact.

"International Rescue, England," she responded in her soft, lush tones. "Lady Penelope speaking."

"Penny," Jeff replied. "You look busy," he gestured to the chequered outfit, complete with cap and cape, "I hope I'm not interrupting."

"Oh, just indulging myself in a little shooting practice, Jeff," Penelope replied. "Now tell me, how can I be of assistance to you?"

"Well Penny, we have a situation. The boys have been called to a research center in Wales," Jeff explained. "Some scientists are trapped underground but the thing is…" he paused to glance away from her. "Oh sorry Penny," he returned, "just hold on a second, will you."

He engaged in some off screen conversation but was back with her within a few minutes. "That was John; he's managed to establish that these scientists have been testing nuclear weapons. More specifically, he was just calling through to tell me that they've been monitoring the after affects of some chemical concoction. Now Brains tells me there isn't any real risk to the boys," Jeff went on, "the tests from the effects of these chemicals have concluded that they're pretty harmless. But I want to know exactly what it is we're dealing with. There are things here that don't add up."

"Go on, Jeff," Penny encouraged. "What kind of things?" her eyes sparkled with excitement.

"Well for a start, John doesn't think these trapped guys sound much like scientists," Penny offered him an intrigued nod and he carried on again. "Then there has to be a reason why over two hundred people were evacuated to a high security hospital in Kent when there are hospitals much closer that could've easily dealt with two hundred patients." Jeff sighed and ran a hand over his forehead, eyeing Penelope's bubbling enthusiasm, "Then there's also the reason as to why no one seems to know about this place."

"So what exactly is it that you'd like me to do, Jeff?" Penny smiled, cocking her head to one side, fascinated and thrilled at the same time.

"I want you to find out everything you can about this research center. I want to know what's going on, Penny, and I want to know as soon as possible," Jeff was determined; if this rescue was to be a success, this information would be critical.

"I see," Penny responded. "I'll get on to it straight away; I know just the man for the job."

"Who's that, Penny?" Jeff couldn't stop his interest peeking.

"Why Sir Jeremy of course," Penny smiled back, "Do you remember his good friend Professor Borender, from that awful incident in Anderbad?" Jeff nodded his recollection and she continued with a sly grin, "Well Jeff, he knows every one who's anyone in the world of research. If he doesn't know what this place is up to, I'll eat my hat."

"Well thanks, Penelope," Jeff smiled his gratitude at her, "I'd really appreciate the help."

"Not at all, Jeff," Penelope smiled back, "not at all. You shall be hearing from me shortly."

"FAB," Jeff signed off.

"Oh dear," Penelope muttered as she placed her compact back in her handbag and positioned the exquisite accessory on her shoulder. "It looks like I shall have to cut short my practice. Never mind," she sighed, turning to face Parker as he approached.

"M'Lady," Parker acknowledged. "H'I've tak'n the liberty h'of loading h'another round." He held the broken shotgun out to her, "Your gun, M'lady."

"Oh, thank you, Parker, but I'm afraid I won't be needing that," she smiled at him with a familiar glint in her eye. "We have a little errand to run," she said, beginning to walk towards the waiting Rolls Royce.

"Oh, very good, M'Lady," Parker let out a weary sigh as he scurried after her purposeful strides.

XxxxX

"Mobile Control from Thunderbird Two," Virgil's voice crackled through the speakers, causing Scott to halt in what he was doing. He held a hand up to stop the barrage of questions flowing his way from Matt Foster and Dr Hunt.

"Excuse me," his tone was curt as he turned to his control system. "Mobile Control, go ahead Virgil," he sighed.

Virgil recognised the frustrated sigh in an instant and couldn't hide a grin from his lips. "Approaching danger zone, am going to land at the coordinates you suggested," he kept his message short and sweet.

"FAB," Scott responded. "As soon as you've landed, proceed with the Mole to reference: Juliet four, three, two, slash, four, nine, one; that's our drilling point. John'll guide us the rest of the way down."

Virgil picked up on the use of the plural and questioned it, "Us?"

"Yeah us," Scott replied, "the way I see it, we'll get through those doors twice as fast if I'm helping you."

Virgil was surprised; he'd assumed he'd be operating the Mole alone this time. It wasn't like he hadn't done it before and there was no real need for speed; the scientists weren't running out of oxygen. If there was one thing he'd learned though, it was never to question Scott when he had that air of frustration about him. He settled for a brief, "Okay," and informed his brother further, "I'll call you when I'm ready."

"FAB," Scott replied, "John's still got the scientists on the line, so he should be able to pinpoint their position easy enough. He's managed to talk the scientists into telling him exactly what they were doing down there," Scott continued after a brief check that Dr Hunt was out of ear shot.

"Yeah?" Virgil replied.

"Yeah, they were examining the effects of chemical warfare agents and what vaccines worked." Scott shook his head, the fact that the scientists had concealed their work in the first place had only added to his frustration. "It's nothing dangerous for us," he paused, lifting his head up as the whine of Two's motors preceded her great shadow moving across him. "Just an inconvenience that they didn't tell us in the first place."

"Well, at least we know now. It looks pretty quiet down there," Virgil commented, not as vexed as Scott by the deceit. Virgil being Virgil, moved the conversation on without dwelling. "I guess you're on your own," he commented as he lowered Two to the ground in the clearing, out of sight.

"Yeah," Scott replied, "It's just me, Dr. Hunt and Mr. Foster here. There's no-one around for miles but it gives us plenty of space to work."

"Okay, I'm just landing now. I'll go and get the Mole ready, stand by," Virgil told his brother as Two's motors droned to a halt and he pushed the steering column away.

"FAB," Scott responded before looking across to the approaching from of an anxious Dr Hunt with a groan.

With a great deal of reluctance, he approached the head scientist. "Dr Hunt," Scott called. "We're about to dig down to retrieve your colleagues."

"Oh excellent, excellent," the scientist rubbed one thumb along the other in a nervous gesture. "You will make sure they are okay, won't you?" Dr Hunt asked, his white hair being blown from it's swept over parting to obscuring his face in the wind.

He really did remind Scott of a mad professor. His white hair stuck up on end where it didn't assault his face and his large glasses covered the majority of his face. He wore a spotted bow tie and a pink shirt, his white coat fanning out in the breeze. Virgil would have a fit at his lack of colour coordination.

"We're doing our best, Doctor," Scott told him, attempting to be reassuring. "You stay right here, we won't be long."

"Don't you worry," Mr Foster replied, looming over the scientist in a threatening manner, "I'll keep an eye on him," he promised.

So far, Scott hadn't been able to work these two out; they'd been squabbling since he'd landed. At first, Scott had put it down to the stress of the situation; he, of all people, knew that people did strange things under stress. Before, he'd tolerated the bickering but now, it was starting to irritate him.

"I'll be waiting for my experiments," Dr Hunt replied to Scott, ignoring the still-towering Mr Foster.

"Dr. Hunt, we aren't going to be rescuing any of your experiments." Scott tried to remain tactful. "Just the trapped scientists."

"Oh," Dr Hunt reddened and fumbled with his hands again, giving a quick glance in Foster's direction. He offered Scott a shaky smile, "Of course, the scientists!" he exclaimed.

Scott frowned and looked across to Mr Foster before reaching a hand out to the scientists shoulder, "Dr. Hunt, I understand this has been a big shock for you," Scott put forward, trying to explain his odd behaviour. "Why don't you let Mr. Foster here take you for a nice hot drink, huh?" Scott paused before adding, "You look like you could use one."

Dr Hunt hoped from foot to foot for a few moments and then looked up at Scott as if he hadn't heard a word of what he'd just said. "Sorry, what?"

"I said you should get a hot drink, something with plenty of sugar, you're in shock; you're shaking," Scott observed.

"Oh no," Dr Hunt shook his head, "I shake like this all the time. Terrible accident with some nerve gas," he shook his head from side to side and Scott's eyes widened in shock; this guy really was priceless.

"Well," Scott continued, extracting his hand from the scientist's shoulder, "I really think you need to take it easy. Why don't you let Mr. Foster take you back to the nearest town in his truck?" Scott gestured to the waiting vehicle. "He can get you checked out, just to be on the safe side."

"No, no," Dr Hunt shook his head. "Can't do that," he muttered. "Must be here." His hands flinched together, nervous again as he looked at Scott, screwing his nose up to squint at the pilot. "Must be here to see my protégés when they're rescued, and besides, the village is miles away."

Scott frowned at the odd little man, "Okay, Dr. Hunt, but I strongly suggest you go with Mr. Foster. He could take you to the hospital where we'll take your scientists."

"Kent," Dr Hunt snapped. "Kent, they have to go to Kent."

Scott shook his head, "Well, you could rendezvous with them there then," he tried to be diplomatic; if the scientists needed hospital treatment, International Rescue would be taking them to the closest hospital equipped to deal with them.

"No, no," Dr Hunt repeated, "I want to be here."

Scott was about to reply when his watch vibrated; "Scott, I'm ready. Maneuvering Mole to drilling position now."

Scott raised the device and spoke clearly, "FAB, I'll be with you in a minute." He turned a concerned glance at the scientist, before Mr Foster stepped forward.

"Don't worry, I'll make sure he's okay," Mr Foster promised. Scott studied him, unsure whether there was a trace of malice in his tone.

Eventually he nodded and headed back to mobile control, "Thunderbird Five from Mobile Control," he called.

"Thunderbird Five, how's it going, Scott?" John's reply came.

"Okay, John. Virgil and I are about to drill down to the scientists, we're going to need your guidance so open a channel with the Mole." Scott waited for John to nod, "I'm heading over to meet Virgil now. I'll talk to you from there."

"FAB," John signed off.

Scott sighed and stood up; he was halted by Dr Hunt running toward him. "Wait!" he wailed, "Wait!" Scott stood still until the scientist had reached him, "You will save them won't you, they're my life, my career depends on those men!" he exclaimed.

"We're doing everything we can, Dr. Hunt," Scott's tone was calm, despite the panicked old man. "Now if you'll excuse me, I have to go to my colleague over there," he waved a hand to where the Mole was now stationary.

Dr Hunt nodded and stood back in an awkward motion, Mr Foster came forward and led him back to a safe distance. Scott waited a few more seconds to be sure Dr Hunt was in safe hands before heading over to the Mole.

Jumping up onto the caterpillar tracks of the trolley, he keyed in the entrance code and let himself in. Virgil was already positioned at the controls. "What took you so long?" he asked, a wry grin lighting his features.

"That Dr. Hunt is really weird," Scott replied, "He's awfully concerned about those scientists."

"Well, I guess they must be close. Living together like that and working all the time," Virgil suggested. "He's probably just concerned about his friends Scott," he said as he made adjustments to the control panel; entering information and reading off important facts and figures. "The guy's worried, cut him some slack."

"No, I've dealt with worried people before, Virg," Scott assured him, "there was something different about this guy. He was…" he shrugged. "He was…"

"He was what?" Virgil asked, raising an eyebrow in his brother's direction.

"I don't know, he was just different," Scott admitted, at a loss to describe it.

"What do you mean different?" Virgil frowned. His older brother was a very good judge of character, he always had been and Virgil didn't doubt that if Scott said there was something weird going on, then there probably was. He did wonder though, if on this occasion Scott was just overreacting because of what they knew already. His suspicion originating from the scientists unwillingness to tell them everything, Virgil wondered if Scott was being overly apprehensive and looking for problems where they weren't any.

He didn't have time to voice his theory; he was interrupted by John's voice through the radio.

"Thunderbird Five to the Mole!" John didn't wait for an acknowledgement. "Scott," he called, "Thunderbird One's automatic camera detector has just been triggered. You'd better get over there, quick!"


	2. Chapter 2

**_In Too Deep - Chapter Two_**

"Thunderbird Five to the Mole!" John didn't wait for an acknowledgement. "Scott," he called, "Thunderbird One's automatic camera detector has just been triggered. You'd better get over there, quick!"

"Damn!" Scott cursed. The shout was uncharacteristic enough but the way his fist came crashing down on the nearest hard surface had Virgil's head spinning round to face his brother in disbelief. Virgil eyed him with caution and allowed his eyebrows to rise; Scott had a temper and Virgil was more than aware of that but his older brother rarely got angry without very good reason. When he sat back and considered the position they found themselves in now, it certainly didn't warrant the irritation that Scott was displaying. It may have been inconvenient and concerning, that someone was taking photographs of Thunderbird One, but it wasn't the first time it had happened.

Scott walked towards the door and then turned back, coming to stand at his brother's side and showing a sense of hesitation that he seldom experienced let alone exhibited. His head was telling him he needed to stop those photographers from getting away but his gut was telling him that he shouldn't be leaving Virgil alone on this one.

"Go!" Virgil encouraged, surprised at the apprehension in his brother. "What are you waiting for? I'll drill down to the scientists."

Scott shook his head, "I don't like it Virg," he confided. He placed a hand on Virgil's shoulder and the outward display made the younger brother realise just how worried Scott was. "You shouldn't be going down there on your own," he frowned hard, torn. "I don't like it; this place gives me the creeps, it doesn't add up. We don't know what we're facing."

"It's not the first time! I'll be in and out before you've caught your photographers, Scott." Virgil reassured him, "We can't let someone get away with photographs of the craft and it's not necessary for you to come with me. I can handle it, go!"

Showing great reluctance, Scott nodded. His stomach twisted at the realisation that he didn't really have a choice. Virgil was right, there was no way they could let anyone get away with footage of the craft and Lady Penelope was already on her way to London; he had to deal with it, there was no other option. Virgil could handle the Mole on his own, that wasn't a problem and going it alone wouldn't drastically effect the rescuing of the three scientists. But the twisting sensation in Scott's gut was telling him this was a bad idea.

A few seconds of hesitation passed before Scott turned to the door and hit the release button. He directed a pained look in Virgil's direction, "Go carefully," he warned.

"I will!" Virgil promised, with a nod. He couldn't understand where Scott's apprehension stemmed from but he was happy to accept that his brother had his reasons. Now wasn't the time to question him. "Now go, before they get away."

The door hissed closed signifying Scott's exit and Virgil frowned, shaking his head. He, of all people, understood how Scott felt sending them into dangerous situations. He knew his older brother worried for their safety and felt guilt whenever they'd been injured, as had happened in the past. Though Scott knew that they were all aware of the risks, there was a small part of him, which could never switch off from the fact that his subordinates were also his brothers. Virgil knew that only too well. Scott always did his best to hide it, especially in the field and that's why, in a way, the current situation was even more alarming. With the escalating crisis with Thunderbird One, Virgil knew deep down that Scott must have a really bad feeling to still hesitate.

Clearing his head, Virgil reached forward to the radio. "Mole calling Thunderbird Five," he said, "John are you still there?" He had a job to do and he intended to get on with it.

"Yeah, I'm still here Virg," the reply crackled through as John appeared in the communications window. Virgil busied himself starting the motors and commencing the drilling procedure. As was typical, the video feed became slanted when the Mole was lifted on its trolley. The machine juddered as the motors groaned and began to rumble a little as it burrowed.

To anyone watching through the dust cloud as the small yellow machine disappeared into the ground, it was a magnificent sight. But to Scott as he clambered inside Thunderbird One, it just caused his stomach to drop that bit further.

"Good," Virgil sighed and smiled warily at John. He'd have been lying if he said that Scott's strange behaviour hadn't bothered him a little, right now he needed John to help focus his efforts on the rescue and pull his mind away from whatever had caused Scott to feel so uneasy. "I've started drilling," he informed his blond brother. "I have the gradient set at 27º, drilling speed 13.5 mph," Virgil reeled off, waiting for John to apprise him of any changes to the course.

"Okay," John replied, concentrating on his own computer read out. "Continue at that speed and on that course for another 2.7 minutes. Then change the gradient by minus 12º, continue for another 2 minutes. You then need to adjust the gradient by plus 4º, you'll break into one of the main corridors of the research center after another 1.3 minutes."

"FAB John, that's 2.7 minutes, change by minus 12º for 2 minutes, change by plus 4º for 1.3 minutes," Virgil acknowledged, typing the necessary information into the computer as he spoke. "Anything else I should know about?"

"Not really," John shook his head, "the ground isn't all that stable. Looks like it's never really recovered from them building underground."

Virgil frowned at the comment; he hadn't noticed anything out of order when he'd landed. In fact, he remembered thinking what a nice scene he could paint from the different colours of the greenery. "Really? The vegetation seems pretty healthy on the surface, there are trees everywhere and the grass is still growing," he voiced his surprise.

"Well yeah," John smirked, "you want to try pulling the leaves off one of those trees, Virgil." His grin widened, "They're not real, they're just there for show. I'm not sure but I'd hazard a guess that the grass is real. We'd have had problems drilling down if it was synthetic." Ever the scientist, John was straight to the point.

"What a shame," Virgil commented with a saddened shake of the head. "There were so many colors; it looked pretty from the air." He turned back to business, not wanting to dwell on the failings of mankind when it came to nature. What about when I break through, John, where do I go from there?"

"If you follow the coordinates I've given you, you should break into the main access corridor to the laboratory. The two blast doors will be directly in front of you, you'll have to cut through them and then on the other side of the second one, you should find the scientists," John told him with confidence. "They're not injured that I know of," John said seriously. "But maybe you should be prepared to deal with smoke inhalation," he suggested.

"Okay," Virgil nodded, "How are the scientists holding up?" he frowned.

"They're holding up okay, I was a bit worried about one of them," John informed his brother. "The guy I've been talking to, Jake, he mentioned that one of others was claustrophobic." John couldn't hide the surprise in his tone at the revelation and after a few seconds to digest it, it became apparent that Virgil agreed.

"Claustrophobic!" Virgil exclaimed, shaking his head with the same incredulity that John felt. "Then why the hell does he work in an underground research center. No wonder these guys have got problems," he muttered.

"That's exactly what I thought," John admitted with a raised eyebrow. "Anyway he seems to have calmed down now. They all appear to be holding up pretty well." He paused, "I did notice they were agitated, I think they're anxious to get out of there, but who wouldn't be?" Virgil nodded at that. "They'll just be pleased when you get there."

"Okay, well tell them I'm on my way," Virgil looked up at his blond brother's image. Unable to stop himself from thinking about Scott, he wondered how his brother was progressing on the surface. "And find out how Scott's getting on, would you?" he glanced at John and smiled.

"Sure," John nodded having expected the request already from his brother. "I'll let you know, Thunderbird Five out."

As the Mole trundled along its course, Virgil frowned to himself at the way his gut churned. It seemed Scott's anxiety was catching.

XxxxX

Having scanned the area from Thunderbird One's heat seeking camera, Scott Tracy's expression almost matched that of his younger brother's in the Mole. He made his way over to the two human shaped blobs of colour on his heat radar. The hover bike he travelled on sped round the outskirts of the woodland that surrounded the centre. Scott's frustration was growing as he scanned the area visually, his handheld radar was telling him that the photographers were straight ahead and sure enough, when he squinted he could make out two figures in the distance.

Scott's expression hardened as the drone of the hover bike increased and he accelerated towards his target. He was planning to give these two a piece of his mind. What they'd done was totally irresponsible; they'd pulled him away from the Mole, away from an important rescue and he was not in a mood to be messed with.

Slowing the bike down, Scott pulled it to a stop and disembarked. Making his way across to the two men, he became cautious, unsure what to expect at first. The closer he got, the surer he was that he recognised them.

"Ned Cook!" Scott exclaimed, making his presence known. His tone laced with anger.

Cook and his associate jumped as Scott came forward from his observation post, previously hidden by trees. They looked at each other and offered awkward smiles as they turned to see Scott stalking towards them.

"What the hell do you think you're playing at?" Scott scowled, his anger at the reporter's presence was obvious and he gestured to the camera they had. "Haven't you learned your lesson?"

"Now listen here buddy…" Cook began, his smile fading in surprise at Scott's outburst.

"No, you listen!" Scott countered, pointing a finger in Cook's direction. "I'm half way through a dangerous operation back there," he hooked a thumb behind him at the Mole's trolley, visible in the distance, "the last thing I need to do is to leave it and come over here to deal with you!"

"Look," Cook tried again, holding his hands up in surrender. "I'm sorry we had to take pictures, but it was the only thing I could think of to get your attention." He took the film from the camera, "Here," he said, thrusting it into Scott's hands. "Please, just listen to me." He sighed, turning to Scott with wide eyes, "Just hear me out."

Scott looked the reporter up and down, Ned's desperation sparked Scott's scepticism but there was something about the urgency in his voice that made Scott relent. "Okay," he nodded. "I'm listening but you'd better have a good excuse, Cook." He paused, "Now I think you ought to tell me how you got here and what the hell you're playing at!" Scott's scowl didn't lift but he got the unfortunate impression he wasn't about to like what Ned Cook was going to tell him.

"Okay," Ned heaved a sigh before he began. "We were here already, investigating a leak from the International Government. We know that whatever's going on down there," he peeked over Scott's shoulder, "it's got something to do with an underground research center. And we also know that it's not public knowledge." He paused, watching Scott continue to eye him with caution, desperate to give nothing away. "There are rumors," Ned confided, looking around them and shifted from one foot to the other, searching for any signs of anyone else listening in on their conversation.

"What rumors?" Scott asked, hiding how much he wanted, needed, an answer to that question.

"Rumors about what they're testing down there," Ned jerked his head towards the facility. Scott risked a glance across to where Dr Hunt and Mr Foster now stood, not far from his mobile control console. He shook his head when it looked like they were arguing again. "It's a government conspiracy!" Ned exclaimed with uncloaked excitement, "A cover-up! They're testing vaccines for nuclear weapons."

Scott's head snapped round to face him at those words. It concerned him just how Cook knew that but he tried to look surprised and shook his head, "Come on, Ned, that doesn't make it illegal. Why would the government cover it up?"

"It's not what they're testing," Ned told him, a serious frown developing on his features, "it's who they're testing it on." There was something wild about the look in his eye, that made Scott wonder if he was just attention seeking.

"Who?" Scott asked, relaxing his body language as if wasn't interested in what Ned had to say.

"I don't know!" Cook snapped, "That's what I'm trying to find out!" Believing Scott's smokescreen of artificial disbelief, he continued. "I'm telling you, it's a conspiracy!" he cried defensively, the desperation in his voice just causing the whine to become more aggravating.

Scott looked Cook up and down yet again, "How did you get here?" he asked, attempting to catch Ned off guard. He was intent on preventing the reporter from finding out just what was going on over his shoulder.

Ned was taken by surprise, "What?" he frowned. "Oh," he waved a hand, shrugging off the question. "I have ways; a good journalist never reveals his sources."

"Yeah, and a good journalist reports real news not uncorroborated gossip," Scott replied, shaking his head in feigned disbelief. He knew he was playing a dangerous game in pretending that he wasn't interested, but he also knew that to trust Ned outright could leave them all in much more danger. "Look Ned, I don't know what you're doing here but I suggest you go back and wait at a safe distance." With one final shake of the head Scott turned and started walking towards his hover bike. He took slow steps, waiting for Ned to call him back.

"I'm trying to help you!" Cook reached forward and grabbed Scott's arm. Scott tried to prevent the relieved sigh that his plan was working from escaping his lips. "Why would I lie?" Ned asked, looking Scott in the eye. "I owe you guys my life!" he screeched, incredulous of Scott's claims. "You don't seriously think NTBS would pay for me to fly all the way out here on a whim, do you?" Ned paused to study Scott's reaction. "I have evidence," he gestured to his cameraman, Joe, hoping to tempt Scott into hearing him out.

"What evidence?" Scott asked, his frown was hardening but Ned smiled at him hopefully. After a few moments, Scott nodded, "Okay, tell me everything you know…"

XxxxX

John meanwhile was in contact with the scientists again, letting them know what was happening on the surface. "Jake, my buddy's on his way through now. How are you doing?"

"Oh, I'm just doing great!" Jake replied, terse and sarcastic. He took a few minutes to calm himself down, "You said he'd be here by now," the accusing undertone cut through the silence on Thunderbird Five, almost causing John to flinch.

"Yeah," John conceded trying to ignore Jake's fretfulness, "sorry about that, we had a few complications. How's your colleague, Luke?"

"Complications!" Jake exclaimed anxiously, "What kind of complications?"

John frowned at the irritated voice that replied. The more John spoke to him, the more he could tell he didn't like this guy, he just couldn't put his finger on why. "Just some problems with the machinery," he lied, "but don't you worry. We'll have you out of there any minute now." There was an uncertain pause. "Say, Jake, is Luke okay?" he asked changing the subject in a deft manoeuvre. "He was the one with the claustrophobia, right?"

"Yeah, yeah," Jake replied, his manner off hand. "Luke's fine," he added but he didn't sound at all bothered.

John decided he had a bit of work to do himself and adopted a soft tone, "Okay, now I've got to guide my colleague to you, so I'm going to leave you on your own now. If you need me for anything, you can contact me on this radio okay?"

"Sure," Jake replied, and switched the two way connection off before John could respond.

In Thunderbird Five, John just frowned and shook his head in astonishment, before turning to his new task.

"What the hell are you playing at!"

Jake turned to the angry voice behind him and threw the radio onto the metal table in the centre of the lab. Test tube bottles shattered as the communications device skidded across the rectangle, sending equipment flying. "We need them to get us out of here, the last thing we want to do is wind them up!" the exclamation came from a tall, well built tattooed man. His blond hair was unkempt and stubble shadowed his jaw as he loomed over Jake.

"Now you listen to me, Billy, I've got a plan." Jake grinned maliciously and pressed his hands together; his knuckles crunched, clicking and snapping into place, and his bulging muscles stretching the material of his shirt. "This is just what we've been waiting for," he laughed and his long flaxen hair fell into his eyes.

Billy frowned, "How did you work that out?" he waved a large hand in the air, "We're trapped miles below the surface in a lab that's on fire!"

"This is our chance at freedom!" Jake grinned, his large frame stretching to slap an arm round Billy's broad shoulders.

"Freedom?" Billy screeched out a raucous laugh. "That's ironic considering we're trapped!"

"I'm serious," Jake's tone of voice changed to one of significance, showing just how serious he was. "Now listen to this," he paused, turning to face the only other occupant in the room, a smaller, dark haired young man who, until now, had been quiet. "You too, Luke, get over here and listen. Here's what we do…"

XxxxX

Scott hurried back to Mobile Control, ignoring requests for a progress report from Dr Hunt. The Mad Doctor, as Scott had termed him, scurried to the field commander's side and fired out random questions at break neck speed. Gently pushing him back, Scott sat down and, with an acquired speed of his own, switched the console on, opening a channel to John.

"Mobile Control calling Thunderbird Five," his frown deepening as he waited for John to reply.

"Thunderbird Five, go ahead Scott," John looked up at him through the communications window. "How did it go with your photographers?"

"The photographer was Ned Cook, John," Scott replied before lowering his tone to a near whisper. "He has evidence that this place is being used to test vaccines on real people," he told his brother with a disgruntled shake of the head. "I can't speak too loud because Dr Hunt's just over there but Ned has the photos and the footage to prove it."

"What do you mean?" John frowned back, needing Scott to be one hundred percent clear about what he'd discovered.

"I mean, I've seen it. He showed me the footage; huge trucks turn up." Scott scowled, disturbed by the discovery, "They offload people into the entrance to that place, just like they were cattle going to market." He paused, screwing his nose up once more, "It's sick, John, those scientists don't deserve rescuing."

John could see his brother was disturbed and angry, but could do nothing but nod, "But it's not up to us to make that decision. We don't discriminate," he found himself saying. He bit his tongue as soon as the words left his mouth, knowing he didn't have to tell Scott that.

"I know that!" Scott almost snapped back as John had pretty much predicted, "Listen, I need you to find out everything you can about those trapped scientists, run their names through Five's computer and see what comes up."

John nodded again, "I'm already on it, just waiting for the results. I started running background checks as soon as I thought they were acting weird."

Scott let out a heavy sigh, deep down he'd been expecting that. John was more than capable of doing his job properly and he didn't need Scott to tell him how. He almost felt stupid for ordering John to carry out the task in the first place. "How's Virgil going?" he asked, changing the subject.

"He's doing okay," John reported, noting the sudden change in Scott's attitude and accepting the apology of sorts. "I checked a few minutes ago and he was starting on the second door."

"That's great," Scott smiled. "The sooner he's back up here and we're on our way home, the better."

"I'll second that," John grinned, pleased Scott's anxiousness seemed to be subsiding. It was not often Scott Tracy was anxious about anything. In fact, to anyone else observing the rescue he would have seemed his normal cool, calm and controlling self, but John knew him better than that. Scott hid how he felt a lot of the time, but his brothers had learned to pick up on the small outward indicators; sometimes a terse response or a tight smile was all that was needed. "I'll let you know what the computer comes up with," John gestured off screen. "Dad wants a progress report."

Scott nodded his sympathy, "FAB John." A part of him was glad it was John giving that progress report and not himself. It usually was; however, he knew his father would realise that he'd been tied up with the photographers.

Scott sat back, scowling at his surroundings. From the moment John had called him with the details, he'd known things at this research centre didn't add up. Now he was here and the rescue was underway, that feeling of unexplained anxiousness wasn't subsiding. He was about to put a call in to Virgil to apprise him of the new information, when a warning light caught his attention.

"Mobile Control from Lady Penelope."

Scott opened the channel and looked straight at the aristocrat with a small smile, "Penny," he greeted in a business like tone. "How's it going, what have you found out?"

"Well Scott, it seems your father was right to be concerned." She nodded retaining her serious demeanour, "I've just spoken with Sir Jeremy and he's agreed to meet with Professor Borender for a spot of tea." Scott watched her glance at her watch, "In fact they should be meeting now. Parker and I are outside the restaurant awaiting Sir Jeremy's finds. I suggested to Parker that we took some of Brains' truth serum but I shall see how things progress before using it." She paused in thought, "Understandably I'm somewhat reluctant to use it on Sir Jeremy's good friend. However he did tell me something rather interesting himself…"

"Go on, Penny," Scott urged, ready to listen.

"Well, he did mention something that concerned me," Penelope spoke in her usual soft tones. "He's heard a few things, shall we say on the grapevine, about a research centre testing their vaccines on people. Allegedly, they inject their victims with some kind of noxious chemical and then attempt to cure them." She shook her head, wrinkling her nose in disgust, "It's disgraceful!"

Scott was silently nodding as she spoke, "That's interesting Penny, I've just been talking to Ned Cook…"

"Ned Cook?" Penelope interrupted him, "How bothersome! I hope you dealt with him appropriately Scott."

"Actually," Scott raised an eyebrow in surprise; he never thought he'd hear these words, let alone from his own lips. "Cook was very helpful, he was trying to warn us off this center, but he pretty much told me what you've just said." Scott matched Penelope's look of disgust, "He showed me some footage he has of truck loads of people arriving. Apparently, he's been camped out up here a while now, he said a lot of people go in but no one ever comes out."

Penelope frowned, "I'll be interested to see what Sir Jeremy discovers from Professor Borender. I do hope there's a rational explanation for all this. It seems to me we could be heading into undesirable territory, Scott."

Scott nodded, agreeing with their London agent without a trace of doubt, "I think you could be right, Penny. Keep me informed, won't you?"

"Absolutely, Scott," she smiled but held on to that air of determination. "Absolutely."

XxxxX

"So," Jake sat back from explaining his grand scheme, "what do you think?"

"I'm in," Billy replied, without hesitation. "Definitely in, I'd do anything to escape this place," the smile he displayed was crooked. "The view from my room isn't what it said in the brochure," he flung his head back letting out a hearty laugh and Jake joined him.

"Wait!" the youngest of the three shook his head. "We can't do this; International Rescue, they're going to save our lives." He gestured to the slowly moving blue flame that indicated Virgil was cutting through the final partition. "How can we do this to them?" Luke was uncomfortable at the notion, "I won't do it," he decided.

Jake's grin faded with menace before he advanced on the younger man. "You'll do what the hell we tell you," he spat in Luke's face. "You're outvoted," he sneered.

"Are you crazy!" Billy was exclaiming, moving to occupy the space Jake had just vacated, inches from Luke's nose. "This is our one chance at freedom and you're going to throw it away just because it's," he paused to adopt a high-pitched, pathetic voice, "International Rescue."

Luke leant forward, apprehension evident in every movement, "This isn't going to get us anywhere."

"Luke," Billy assumed a patronising tone and laid a lazy hand round the young man's shoulders. "International Rescue aren't all that fantastic, it's taken them this long to get down here already. You heard what their man told Jake; complications he said. What if the complications were them finding out who they're really rescuing, huh?" He shook his head, taking in Luke's wide eyed expression. "They won't be so quick to rush to our aid once they know who we really are. We have to protect ourselves."

"No," Luke disagreed, "they wouldn't discriminate like that. We can't do this to them, there are other ways." He shook himself free from Billy's grasp and turned to face both of the larger men, "Listen, maybe after all this, it'll be over. People will find out what's going on down here and then they'll tell the government, they'll make it stop!"

"People know already, Boy," Jake frowned indignantly, "they just don't want to do anything about it! Who's going to help us? We're already the outcasts; nobody's going to want to save us." He paused, squeezing his fists into balls, "The government are the ones behind all this, you idiot! This is the only way, we don't have a choice."

"No, there's always a choice," Luke stood by his original decision. "There has to be another way," he sighed and ran a hand through his dark, russet locks.

"Look," Billy took him to one side, away from where Jake was becoming angry. "Winding him up isn't a good idea, okay?" he gestured over his shoulder to where Jake's large frame could be seen beginning to pace. "Now listen, you want to see your kid, right?"

Luke nodded with great reluctance, "Of course I do but…"

"Right," Billy sighed. "And when this is all over, you can see him," he could see Luke wasn't convinced. "We're not asking for your approval," he drew himself up to his full height and towered over the young man in a menacing gesture.

"Okay," Luke nodded again. "Okay, I'll do it. On one condition: no one gets hurt, okay?"

Jake turned to look at him before rolling his eyes, but the reply came from Billy.

"Yeah, no one gets hurt," he glanced across to Jake over Luke's head and they exchanged silent but mutual thoughts.

"You promise?" Luke asked. It was obvious that there was no love lost between the three and trust was even harder to come by. The hollow words were lacking in reassurance.

"We promise," Jake snapped. "Now here," he thrust a white coat into Luke's chest and threw another at Billy. "Put those on, we've got to look the part." He began searching through doors and locked cupboards, sending bottles of pills and vials clattering to the floor. "Ah ha!" he triumphed, pulling out a metal tray and placing it down on the table. Pulling away the surgical green cover, he grinned, "Arm yourselves."

"With scalpels?" Billy turned his nose up and laughed.

"You got any better ideas?" Jake asked, brandishing one of the sharp implements. "I don't see any knives or machine guns lying around the place."

"No, no," Billy shook his head, frantic at the perceived threat, "it's a good idea." He said, changing his attitude quickly and picking up one of the silver handled blades, a little out of self defence at Jake's intimidation.

"Why do we need scalpels if no one's going to get hurt?" Luke asked, his vision flicking between his two companions in innocent confusion. "I think we should leave them where they are."

"They're not going to take us seriously unless we threaten them!" Jake snapped back, throwing an angry glare in Luke's direction. "You're really asking for it, Kid," he muttered.

"Look," Luke shook his head, glancing at the tray of blades. "I'm sure if we just spoke to International Rescue on the way up to the surface…"

He was cut off abruptly as Jake thrust a blade toward his neck. Luke stumbled backwards against the wall but Jake kept coming at him, holding the blade inches from where Luke swallowed and whimpered, afraid of what the larger man would do next.

"Just take one of the damned knives and do as we say, got it?" Jake growled, pushing the blade of the scalpel against Luke's skin. "Don't mess with me, Kid, I'm warning you."

Luke nodded and swallowed again, he heaved a sigh of relief when Jake moved the blade away. Reaching up to his neck, he was dismayed to feel a trickle of blood. The pressure from the scalpel hadn't been that great and the fact that it had drawn blood was surprising but illustrated just how sharp the blade was.

Jake gestured for him to take a weapon and in one nervous movement, he did so, "If you're scared…" Jake mocked, grinning in Billy's direction.

"I'm not scared," Luke denied. "I just don't think it's right."

"Yeah well, you'd better not lose your nerve," Billy sneered, moving to stand alongside Jake as if they were a united front. "Or we'll kill you," he threatened with a manic grin. "It's not like we haven't done this kind of thing before."

There were a few moments silence, during which Luke tried to judge just how serious they were. He was fast concluding that he was out of his depth but before he had time to dwell on the fact, they heard a shout from the other side of the steel.

"Stand back from the door, I'm going to kick it in," Virgil's shout preceded a few inelegant grunts and the steel door hitting the ground with a slam. "This way," Virgil shouted through his heat proof suit, holding an arm to guide them back towards the Mole. "Come on!"

XxxxX

Tin-Tin walked into the lounge, unsurprised to see three heads snap up to meet her gaze. She carried a tray with a fresh pot of coffee and a plate of toast for herself. "How's it going?" she asked eyeing them all with caution.

The tense atmosphere in the room didn't bode well; it never did during a rescue.

Alan cleared a space for her to sit down and unconsciously draped his arm over the back of the sofa behind her head. "Virgil's drilled down to the scientists," he informed her as she leaned forward to pour fresh coffee. "He should be reaching them any minute but Scott got delayed."

"Delayed?" Tin-Tin asked, sitting back and tucking her feet underneath her. She raised a piece of toast to her mouth, "Delayed how?" she asked.

"Delayed by Ned Cook, Tin-Tin," Gordon replied, shaking his head. There were few times when Gordon really got angry. His temperament was a lot like Virgil's; laid back and difficult to irritate. However, there was something in his manner that told Tin-Tin that, at that moment in time, he was feeling irritated.

"Ned Cook?" Tin-Tin questioned. "But it's early morning, how did he get there?"

Jeff's head came up to reply, "He was already there, Tin-Tin." He sighed, "Apparently investigating this research center." He waved a hand in exasperation, and Tin-Tin got the distinct impression he was annoyed too.

"Yeah," Gordon told the young engineer, "They've been testing these vaccines on people."

"People?" Tin-Tin screwed her nose up; so that was why everyone was so anxious. It seemed this rescue wasn't going as planned. "You mean volunteers?" she asked, needing to be sure.

"No, Tin-Tin," Jeff shook his head sadly, cutting in again. "Not volunteers," he looked up at the disgust on her face. "Not that we know of anyway; seems people are being herded into the place 'like cattle'." He used Scott's own words with pure distaste.

"Oh that's terrible!" Tin-Tin exclaimed. "It can't be true!" She paused for the enormity of it to sink in, "Well, can we prove it? We know what Ned Cook's like, he'll do anything for a story," she frowned. "Maybe he's making it up to get some attention."

"Scott's seen the footage, Tin-Tin," Alan told her. "Cook showed him what they'd found so far; people being smuggled into the facility late at night. Whatever's going on there, they're hiding something."

"But Alan, we know that the media jumps to conclusions. I mean," she waved a hand. "Look what happened to us that time, when those people posed as International Rescue. The media were quick to jump to conclusions then; perhaps Cook is just doing the exact same thing that Eddie Kerr did."

"No, Tin-Tin," Jeff said for a third time, "I think there might be some truth in his claims. Penelope called in from her meeting with Sir Jeremy and he's heard the same rumors. That's more than a coincidence."

"Where there's smoke, there's fire." Gordon stated, nodding in agreement with his father.

"Well, what can we do, Mr Tracy?" Tin-Tin asked eagerly.

"Nothing. That's the problem Tin-Tin, we can't do anything; we just have to wait and see what Penny discovers. John's checking out these scientists, maybe he'll be able to shed some light on the whole thing," Jeff frowned.

There it was. That was the crux of the matter, Tin-Tin nodded in understanding. If there was one thing the Tracy family hated doing, it was nothing.

A sombre silence descended on them.

"Oh, in all the excitement I forgot," Tin-Tin smiled, hoping to lighten the atmosphere. "Mrs Tracy called late last night, Mrs Robinson seems to be doing better," she commented, aware that no one was listening. "She said she was planning to stay on for a few more days anyway, she was feeling a bit under the weather herself, now."

Mary Robinson was a good friend of Jeff's mother and after she'd become ill, Mrs Tracy had flown back to Kansas to be with her. She'd been keeping the family updated and fussing over the running of the house but Tin-Tin was sure it was her worry for her friend behind it all.

Sighing, Tin-Tin looked round at the worried faces of the people she classified as her family. Jeff was understandably anxious; he always was when any of his sons were out on a dangerous mission. This one, it seemed, was puzzling them all.

Gordon frowned, frustrated no doubt, by the lack of action. Tin-Tin knew that it was more than likely he'd missed his morning swim and that he was probably feeling tense. Of course, he wouldn't leave the lounge now. Not whilst his brothers were out on a mission, he would want to know exactly what was going on and when. Alan was the same, they were anxious for their brothers' safety and she sympathised, feeling the same herself.

Rescues, no matter how simple, always caused a tense atmosphere to descend onto the Tracy Villa. And Tin-Tin knew from experience, that the tension would remain until Thunderbirds One and Two were both safely on their way back home.

XxxxX

Scott had fielded Dr Hunt's barrage of questions with the ease that command bestowed upon him. He sat at his mobile control console and now that he possessed the knowledge he had, he eyed the head scientist warily in the distance. Several thoughts ran through his head, concoctions of just what that man was capable of, and a chill ran down his spine.

Matt Foster hadn't been a great deal of help and when he'd mentioned that he had to check on the other scientists, Scott had gladly sent him off to the hospital, leaving only himself and the Nutty Doctor at the scene. Dr Hunt had accepted Scott's offer of a coffee after much persuasion and he now sat on top of a rock, under the shade of a counterfeit tree. From his position at Mobile Control a few feet away, Scott couldn't help but stare. As he waited for information from John and Virgil, his mind drifted to consider all the possibilities of the Nutty Doctor's experiments.

He was snapped out of his reverie by John's incoming call and answered it with haste; hoping for information. "Go ahead, John," he commanded. "What have you got?"

"Well," John sighed in reply, "not an awful lot." The communications window in front of him told Scott his brother was frowning. "I've got the preliminary finds back from Five's first search and it's come up with nothing on any of these guys."

"What?" Scott matched his brother's expression, struggling to believe what he was being told. Thunderbird Five had one of the most advanced systems to date and accessed thousands of databases world wide. Some of which, Scott was in no doubt, it probably shouldn't.

"Yeah, I know," John nodded, fully understanding his older brother's surprise. "Not a thing." Lines on the blond brother's brow deepened further, "I've expanded the fields of the search and I'm trying again."

"Nothing," Scott repeated, pondering over the results. "Nothing, at all," he muttered.

"Nope, nada," John replied, echoing his brother's surprise. "To begin with I thought maybe there was a problem with Five's search engine but I've checked it and it's working fine."

"This isn't normal, John," Scott was shaking his head at his brother's image, "It should bring something up, even if it's just the voter registration list."

"The electoral register," John corrected, "yeah, I know," he agreed. "We'll just have to wait and see what the second search comes up with," he shrugged, not sure what else to suggest.

"Yeah," Scott replied, a little testy, "but I don't like it. I'm going to try to get through to Virgil, warn him that these guys aren't what we think they are," he decided.

John concurred but warned, "He should have made his way through by now, so be careful what you say; he might be with them."

Scott just nodded, trying to think of a good reason why the trapped scientists would need to give them bogus identities.

XxxxX

Down in the research centre, the main corridor had filled with smoke. Visibility was considerably reduced and the smouldering building was causing the three scientists to struggle; they lagged behind coughing and spluttering as Virgil attempted to lead them in the direction of the Mole.

Virgil turned back, "Come on, guys," he encouraged. "This way, hurry!"

"Hurry to where?" Jake asked, reaching the back of hand to his mouth as he coughed.

Virgil was relieved to see the smoke fading to be replaced by the bright yellow colouring of the Mole's bodywork. "In here," he gestured to the door and tapped in the required code with some urgency. Obediently, the door hissed open and all four of them stepped inside.

"What is this thing?" Billy asked as he struggled to control his breathing. He took in his surrounding with wide eyes.

"It's a drilling machine; it'll take us back to the surface," Virgil told them as he led them into the main control area. "Here, sit down," he said as he disappeared into the store room to place the oxyhdnite canisters away.

"He seems like a nice guy," Luke commented as they took their seats. "I'm sure if we explained…"

"We explain nothing!" Jake hissed back fiercely, "Now we just need to calm down and bide our time. When the moment's right we'll…" he didn't complete the sentence. He snapped his head up instead, and looked directly at the small console to his right as it emitted a sound.

"Mole, from Mobile Control," Scott's voice came over the radio. There were a few moments of silence, during which Scott expected a reply. "Mole, this is Mobile Control, acknowledge," he tried again, anxiety forming in his tone.

Startled by the radio, Billy and Jake looked at each other, and then turned to the storage room where Virgil had disappeared. They exchanged a silent dialogue, coming to the same conclusion with a mutual nod of understanding.

Nervous apprehension descending around them.

Having heard the call, Virgil came back into the room and when the bang of the door shutting caused all three of the scientists to jump, he just smiled at them, assuming they'd been startled. "Don't worry," he assured them. "We'll be on the surface in no time."

Scott's voice came over the radio again and Virgil watched as his three passengers' heads spun round to face the console. "It's just my colleague wanting an update," Virgil attempted to set their minds at rest. He put their unease down to being trapped.

He made his way to the control panel and took his seat, unaware that behind him, the scientists were plotting.

"Mobile Control, this is the Mole," he responded to Scott's hail, surprised at the anxious expression on Scott's face when his brother appeared on his monitor. He made a mental note to discuss this mission with Scott when they got back. Whatever was eating at his older brother, it didn't look healthy from where he was sitting and it was having an effect on him too.

"Switch to frequency 3," was Scott's curt response.

Virgil frowned. Perhaps curt was understating it slightly. Scott was often abrupt when they were out on a rescue. It wasn't that he was being rude; they just didn't have time for pleasantries when lives were in danger. Virgil, like his brothers, understood that. However, lives were no longer in danger; the scientists had been rescued and Virgil found his brother's tone surprising, if not a little grating.

Frequency 3 was their own code for private conversation and Virgil reached out for the headset that swung above him on the control console. Placing it over his ears and adjusting the mouthpiece, he sighed. "Okay, Scott, Frequency 3, what's up?"

"Are the scientists with you?" Scott asked, a frown pulling his eyebrows together.

"Yes, of course they are," Virgil looked puzzled. "We're about to make our way up now," he informed his brother.

"Listen, Virg," Scott began his expression was anxious enough but his tone dripped with concern, "John did a background check on those three guys and Five didn't come up with anything. This isn't adding up, I was right, there's something going on," he shook his head. "I want you to get to the surface quick and don't let them know that you know anything's amiss."

Virgil glanced across to his passengers hoping his unease wasn't showing. He offered them a nervous smile when he realised they were all watching him. "What do you mean?" he asked Scott, deliberately keeping his tone low and his words ambiguous.

"I mean I don't think they are who they say they are. Since we arrived at this place we've been told conflicting stories and half truths," Scott was more than a little harassed and Virgil listened as the angry words came out. "Now I don't know why they've been hiding things from us or what the hell's going on, but I don't want to get caught up in it."

Virgil nodded, keeping his movements slow and sure, "Okay," his tone became professional. "I've just got to get my passengers settled and then I'll head for the surface," his sombre expression told Scott he knew this was serious.

"FAB, take care and hurry it up."

Intentional or not, Scott had just made his brother incredibly anxious and when he added those words, Virgil's stomach fluttered. Whatever was going on, it was enough to rile Scott and it was therefore enough for Virgil to think twice about discounting his brother's apprehension.

He turned in his seat, formulating the words to explain to his passengers that they were ready to move. He was unprepared for the fist that hit him squarely in the jaw. The punch sent him flying off the seat and on to the floor.

Virgil reflected that it wasn't the force of the hit but rather the abruptness of it that stunned him. He wasted valuable seconds processing what had happened and struggled to respond. After what felt like a while though, his instinct for self-preservation kicked in and he fought back. He rolled to his feet, fists flying at his attacker and ready to return the aggression. His success was short lived and moments later, a tackle from behind sent him sprawling to the floor once more.

The scuffle that followed was frenzied and brutal, fists and legs flailed everywhere. Even on the floor and still under attack, Virgil scored a few direct hits but truly his defence was futile; he was outnumbered. Despite his desperate attempts, he found himself pinned down on the floor within a few minutes. He continued to resist though, struggling against his captors and thrashing about until he felt a cool blade press against his throat.

He froze instantly.

"Just do as we say and no-one will get hurt," he was told in a callous, rough voice.


	3. Chapter 3

_**In Too Deep – Chapter Three**_

Tense silence followed the menacing threat. Virgil lay on the floor pinned down; Jake practically sat on his chest, whilst the other two held his arms.

No one moved.

No one spoke.

And if it weren't for the fact that his breathing was coming in such uneven gasps, Virgil would have argued that no one breathed either. He met Jake's icy glare and held it, trying to assess his attacker as much as Jake was trying to assess him.

The silence continued before Jake leant forward, enjoying the undeniable discomfort Virgil felt. He idly played with the scalpel on his captive's skin, letting the sharp blade slide from one side of Virgil's throat to the other in a playful, almost lazy, motion. When Virgil took in an instinctive sharp breath, Jake smiled at the result his teasing was having on his prisoner.

Virgil tried to appear calm, despite the fact that panic was starting to rise deep inside. Jake jabbed the scalpel harder against his skin and it became evident he was waiting for a reply. Virgil tried to speak but, to his surprise, found his mouth too dry. He swallowed, nervous but determined not to flinch from Jake's steely gaze.

"Okay," Virgil nodded out of habit but felt the pressure of the blade against his throat again and then stopped. "Okay," he repeated as he tried to control his rapid breathing.

Jake eyed him, a smile tugging ever so slightly at the corners of his lips. "Luke," he ordered, not turning away from Virgil. "Get his gun."

"H-His gun?" Luke asked, coughing to clear his throat.

"Yes, his gun!" Jake snapped, gesturing to Virgil's belt. Luke obliged, handing his current assignment over to Billy.

Jake's weight on his chest pinned Virgil down so he couldn't see, but he felt the item being removed. A sense of fear tingled at the base of his spine as he realised that the weapon was his only real chance at overthrowing all three of his captors. He was adamant though, having seen how satisfied Jake was at his current predicament, that he wouldn't show it and tried to appear composed.

"Are you carrying any other weapons?" Jake's gravely voice snapped him back to the present and he blinked.

Virgil shook his head, "No."

"Are there any other weapons on board?" Jake asked again.

Virgil took a few minutes to respond, licking his lips and taking his time, "No."

Jake nodded, scowling at his prisoner's unruffled front. When their eyes met again, something passed between them that left Virgil in no doubt as to just how far this hijacker would go. Jake's eyes were lifeless and cold, his gaze was hard and resolute. The only time the permanent scowl on his features lifted was when he knew he was in control.

"Should we tie him up?" Billy asked from where he still held Virgil's wrists to the floor.

Jake narrowed his eyes and then looked Virgil up and down, "No, Billy," he said coming to a decision, "we don't need to." His gaze became purposeful, "He's not stupid; he knows he could never take us, not all of us." Virgil understood the clear warning and glowered back. "He'll be a good boy," Jake smiled in a patronising tone.

Virgil sighed in relief as the scalpel pressing against his throat was removed. Jake nodded for Billy to follow suit and within seconds, Virgil's arms were free too. Letting his head fall back against the floor with a thud, the muscles in his neck and chest relaxed, and began aching straight away. Making Virgil realise just how much he'd been straining against the confinement placed on him.

"Get up," Jake ordered. "Sit over there," he gestured to one of the two red, bench seats and in his own time, Virgil complied.

"Look," Virgil sighed, "Why don't you tell me what this is about?" He looked around at the three people he'd been told were scientists and tried to appear hopeful that the situation wasn't as bad as it appeared. His heart beat echoed in his ears, a dull thud that reminded him how important it was to at least try to stay calm.

"And why don't you shut up?" Jake snapped back.

"If you tell me what this is about…" Virgil tried again but was quickly cut off.

"I said shut up!" Jake thrust a scalpel in his direction and Virgil flinched away, sitting back from the weapon. He took a few moments to survey these three people. Jake, he decided, was the leader; blond, unkempt and well built. He'd taken to pacing up and down the gap between the bench seats, breathing heavily and shaking his head. Virgil didn't doubt that he meant every word of what he'd said and concluded that he was the biggest threat. Alerted to a rhythmic tapping noise, Virgil turned his attention to the man Jake had called Luke. He was smaller, much younger than Jake was and he had darker hair too. He sat on the bench seat opposite Virgil, tapping the scalpel in his hands against the wooden support.

"What are we going to do?" Virgil's attention was drawn back to Jake, who'd been obstructed in his pacing by Billy. His appearance wasn't all that different from Jake's. His hair was unkempt, blond but slightly darker than Jake's, and the stubble on his jaw animated his vicious streak. Virgil watched them exchange a short, sharp dialogue.

Suddenly Jake turned round to face Virgil again, brandishing the scalpel. Virgil held his ground and didn't flinch but in the corner of his eye, he could've sworn Luke had. "What did they tell you about us? About who we are?"

Virgil considered the three angry but expectant faces. He chose his words with great caution; "You told us that you were scientists. Dr. Hunt told us there had been an explosion and that you were trapped down here." He would have gone on but Jake interrupted him.

"Hunt? Is he up there?" he gestured to the surface with a nod of the head.

Virgil nodded, "Yes, when I came down to get you he was up there waiting." He studied their reaction to his words, trying to work out what was going on. "I haven't actually spoken to him but my colleague said he was very concerned for you, for all his scientists."

"Concerned!" Billy laughed. He scoffed and shook his head. "He's not concerned. Well, not for us anyway, only for his precious experiments." He coughed, "And we're not scientists."

Jake grinned and turned to Billy, knocking the blond man's shoulder to get his attention. "We are his precious experiments though," he said.

Virgil frowned, "I don't understand," he looked up at the three of them in turn. "If you're not scientists, what exactly are you?"

"Not what!" All eyes turned to the dark haired young man sat opposite Virgil, who, until now, had been silent. He raised a shaky hand out to the pilot, wielding his own sharp implement. "Who!" his voice quivered every bit as much as his hand did and Virgil's frown deepened, not at all threatened. "It's not what we are, it's who we are," Luke told him, pushing the scalpel closer. "Don't group us together as if we don't matter, we do matter. We have rights and we have feelings," he spat out, the venom in his voice was surprising but nonetheless angry. "We are something," he muttered as he looked at his two companions. It seemed that they were as surprised as Virgil was at the sudden outburst.

Virgil apologised, not wanting to upset them, "I'm sorry, I didn't mean it like that. I just meant that if you're not scientists, what are you doing in a research lab?"

"None of your damned business!" Billy responded, the irritation clear in his voice as he pushed Virgil back against the seat with a rough hand on his shoulder.

"It is my business if you're going to hold me …" Virgil was cut off as Jake advanced again.

"You," he began menacingly, "are asking too many questions." He leaned forward, until his nose was almost touching Virgil's. Virgil didn't let the aggressive move intimidate him and held his ground again, "You just sit there and shut up!" Jake snapped.

"What are we going to do now?" Billy asked again in the silence that followed the angry outburst.

"We're going to be quiet so I can think!" Jake growled, pushing Billy into the seat next to Luke as he went back to pacing the floor.

Virgil's gaze was drawn once more to the youngest of his three captors. In a nervous, meek gesture, Luke met his gaze and attempted a smile before Jake turned round and he looked away again. Perhaps a ray of hope in an otherwise impossible situation.

XxxxX

Lady Penelope, meanwhile, sat outside an exclusive and very expensive-looking West London restaurant in her customised pink Rolls Royce. She took the occasional sip of tea, Parker having had the forethought to bring a thermos, and made hurried notes as she listened intently to the information communicated to her through a small, concealed earpiece. Glaring up at the front seat, she tutted and shook her head in a disproving manner. The snoring emanating from the drivers seat had been tiresome to begin with, but after twenty long minutes of Parker's unsystematic grunting, it had fast become infuriating.

"Parker!" she whispered, her tone fearsome. No response came, baring another burst of incomprehensible snorting. "Parker!" she tried again, but received a similar reply.

"Oh really!" she exclaimed. Placing her cup of tea on a fold down table, she shuffled forward in her seat and placed her mouth alongside where the chauffeur's hat had fallen down to his eyes. "Parker!" she shouted in his ear.

Parker jumped in his seat, "M'Lady!" he exclaimed, righting his hat and settling behind the wheel. He took a few moments to get his bearings, "You h'err strartl'd me, M'Lady." He managed to force the words through his lips, attempting some kind of explanation.

"Of course, Parker," Penelope responded in her usual dry tone. "And I suppose your eyes were closed due to the fact you were resting them," she continued. "Am I correct?" she raised an eyebrow at him as she settled back into her seat.

"H'absolutely, M'Lady." Parker responded. "H'I was just thinkin' 'ow the 'ood does it. You know, all that telep'thy and the like," he looked at her in the rear-view mirror and saw she wasn't impressed by his cover-up.

"You were snoring, Parker," Penelope informed him in a brusque tone.

"H'again?" Parker asked, feeling remorseful and beginning to regret taking Lil out the night before.

"Again," Penelope deadpanned.

"Sorry, M'Lady," Parker bowed his head at the reprimand but lifted his eyes to look at the aristocrat through the mirror.

"Don't let it happen again," Penelope chastised. Parker thought there was more of an admonishment to come and was surprised when instead of lecturing him, Penelope returned to scribbling on her pad. "How very interesting," she muttered.

"Found something, M'Lady?" Parker asked from the front seat. He was trying to make up for his earlier misdemeanour by being extra helpful, "Should h'I put h'a call in to h'err mobile control?" Penny scowled at him from the backseat and swatted her hand about in the air, gesturing at him to be quiet.

"Well, I never…" Penelope sighed, glancing up at Parker to see him staring at her expectantly. "Oh," she replied, a little off-hand. "Conferring with the good Professor, François has turned his hand to developing a type of Penylon that regulates body heat." Parker's raised eyebrow dropped and he nodded a little, failing to see the excitement. "What an excellent addition!" She paused and pressed the concealed earpiece, "He said just a few moments ago that it has all the same qualities of Penylon, but it can also be developed for astronauts, aquanauts and even explorers. Hmm, I must remember to mention it to Jeff," she sighed, her tone dreamy. "And I wonder if François would make me a skiing suit. It does get awfully cold on the Alps this time of year, wouldn't you agree, Parker?" When she didn't receive a reply, she looked up again. "Parker?"

At the mention of his name, Parker's head snapped up from where he dozed. "Yes, M'lady?"

Penelope sighed, "Well, Professor Borender doesn't seem to be telling us what we want to know. I think that perhaps a little coercion is in order. Do you have the serum?"

"Yes, Madame," Parker nodded, reaching into his pocket and retrieving the phial.

"What a shame, I really didn't want it to come to this," Penelope pondered. "Never mind, desperate times call for desperate messages. Go ahead, Parker," she nodded, "use the serum."

"Very good, M'Lady," Parker removed his hat and left it on the dashboard. He was about to reach for the door handle when Lady Penelope stopped him.

"Hold on, Parker," she paused, listening hard, "this may be what we've been waiting for..."

XxxxX

Dr Hunt still sat on the edge of a rock a few metres away, Scott watching him fidget with the empty cup in his hands.

"How's it going, John?" he asked answering his brother's call and looking up in expectation. "Found anything yet?" John's shake of the head was the only answer he needed but he waited for his brother to expand.

"Well, not really," John replied. "I've managed to track down their birth certificates and school records but that's all," he shrugged. "I'll tell you something though, with the grades theses guys were getting…" he trailed off, shaking his head at his brother's image. " Well let's just say they weren't high achievers. They don't seem like scientist material, Scott."

Scott nodded his head in contemplation, "So, we can establish they're definitely not scientists then. If they'd gone on for post-grad education, it would be in their school record, surely."

"Ah, well," John sighed. "That's the thing, you see, because none of these reports specify where these guys went after school. It's like they just dropped off the edge of the planet or something."

Scott frowned at the comment, "Are the schools close by?"

"Nope," John shook his head. "I'm sorry, I know it's not much to go on, but it's all I've got at the minute," he bowed his head, thoroughly confused at the outcome. "The search is still going but it doesn't look too hopeful."

"Okay, well, thanks anyway, John," Scott sighed. "At least we know more than we did a few hours ago." He was deep in thought.

"Say, where's Dr. Hunt?" John asked, searching for the scientist in the background behind Scott's image.

"Oh, he's keeping his distance," Scott replied. "I think he's finally got the message that he was starting to annoy me with all his questions." He paused in thought, "Do you think maybe Cook could be telling the truth? I mean, if this is some kind of secret base, then the government would try to conceal information. They might even change records to make it appear unlikely that these guys could be scientists, y'know throw people of the scent."

John thought the idea through. "Well I guess it's possible but why would they need to do that? Five has access to information the public doesn't have. Anyone reading this data should theoretically already have government clearance."

"Yeah but how high a clearance?" Scott asked frowning. It was obvious he was unhappy about the situation. "I guess it depends on just how secret they're trying to keep this place," he pondered. "Keep at it, John," he encouraged. "I don't like the idea of Virgil being alone down there when we don't know what's going on."

"I know it's not ideal," John agreed before changing his tone, "but Virgil's a big boy, Scott. He can handle himself and it's not like he's never worked the Mole alone."

"I know all that, John," Scott's frown deepened. "I just don't like it. I've got a really bad feeling about all this." John could see his older brother was troubled and just nodded. Deep down, he understood; he wasn't pleased at the current situation himself. The mystery surrounding this rescue had been unnerving from the outset. Like Scott had said earlier, he'd be relieved when they were all on their way home.

"Have you heard from him yet?" John asked, his mind wandering as to how Virgil was getting on.

"Yeah," Scott replied, a little distracted. "I managed to get through a few minutes ago. He was back at the Mole with the scientists," he paused and muttered under his breath, "or whoever they are. I warned him that they aren't what we think, so at least he'll be on his guard now. He said he was just going to get them settled and then he'd make a start towards the surface. Has he got all the co-ordinates?"

"Yeah," John nodded. "I sent it all through together. He shouldn't need any guidance."

"Okay," Scott paused looking to another screen. "Oh, hold on, John, Lady Penelope's calling in." He pressed the appropriate buttons and soon her face appeared on his screen with John's. "Go ahead, Lady Penelope, what have you found?"

"Scott," her rich tones replied. "How's John's search progressing?"

Scott frowned at her; she had that gleam in her eye. The one where she knew something and was about to make a revelation. "Actually," Scott told her. "John's on the line with me now. He's not got very much at all. It's like these guys just disappeared."

"In that case, I think he'd better hear this too," Penelope suggested.

"Hold on," Scott reconfigured his communications settings. "Okay, go ahead."

"Hi, Penelope," John greeted.

"John," Penelope nodded in acknowledgement before diving in to her report. "I've just been listening to Sir Jeremy's conversation and he's made a rather disconcerting discovery."

"Listening how Penny? Are you there now?" John frowned.

"Well, yes I am. Parker and I are sat outside. I gave Sir Jeremy a gift earlier, one of Brains' charming little St Christophers with a microphone," she informed the two brothers, who were grinning at her intuitiveness. "Now, I've been listening from outside and it seems Professor Borender had heard about this research centre. According to what he's just told Sir Jeremy, it's a secret base controlled by government agencies. Many people dismissed it as a rumour; it's never been proved that it's ever existed. Though, you were quite correct in saying that they've been testing the effects of nuclear warfare, John, and I'm afraid to say that your acquaintance, Mr Cook, may be onto something, Scott." She continued, lowering her tone and adopting a serious frown, "Professor Borender has it on good authority that the centre does exist and, not only that, but they're testing vaccines, in the event of a nuclear war. On people. And not just any old people either…" she trailed off and met both their expectant gazes in turn, "prisoners."

"Prisoners!" John exclaimed.

Scott's head snapped up to where Dr Hunt sat and then he glared back at John, ordering him to be silent without saying a word.

"Apparently so, John," Penelope went on, "Now, I don't know very much about these three individuals however I would suggest that you'll be able to discover more now that you can narrow your search."

"Yeah, thanks, Penelope." John nodded, though not at all comfortable with her finds. "I'll get on it right away."

"Lady Penelope," Scott looked at her blankly and then sighed. "How does he know all this?" he asked, shaking his head. It didn't matter what kind of fix they managed to get themselves into, Penny and Parker had always managed to help them out. And they hadn't disappointed this time.

"Well, when it comes to research, it's in Professor Borender's interests to know what other projects are ongoing." She replied, waving a hand. "He'd dismissed the horror stories as being far-fetched spin doctoring on the part of Human Right's extremists, however, there are too many coincidences for that to be the case. I believe the testing centres the good Professor had heard rumours of and the centre in Wales are one and the same. They certainly exhibit the same characteristics."

"I see," Scott nodded, her methods never ceased to amaze him. "Good work, Penny, did you have to use the serum?" he asked, remembering her uncertainty at the idea.

"No, Scott," Penny replied with a delicate smile, "Thankfully Sir Jeremy can be quite persuasive when he needs to be." Scott smiled at her, returning the gesture, "I shall let your father know our discovery and wait for Sir Jeremy. If you would find it beneficial, I could do some detective work from here. Parker may have some contacts."

"Thanks, Penny," Scott shook his head, "But Virgil's on his way up with these guys now. If this is political, which it looks like it is, I think it's best if we just pack up and head home. We have no proof that these prisoners, or whoever, aren't volunteering their services."

"I agree, Scott," Penelope nodded, "and I'm sure your father will too. Your main priority is to save lives."

"Okay, Penny, thanks for the help."

"Not at all, Scott, it's always a pleasure," she smiled her customary elegant smile. "Lady Penelope, out."

" 'Ome M'Lady?" Parker asked from the driver's seat, as the communications console slid away.

"We shall wait for Sir Jeremy first, Parker," Penelope told him, reaching to pour herself another cup of tea. "In the meantime, I must apprise Jeff Tracy of our findings."

XxxxX

Jeff frowned as Penelope's portrait flickered back into place. Though he'd welcomed her deduction skills and any information she could find about this centre in Wales, he wasn't happy with the results. He shook his head, trying to rationalise the situation and hoped that John would be able to shed more light on it. Knowing that Scott would be expecting his call after he'd spoken to Penelope, he opened a channel to his eldest son.

He was unsurprised when Scott responded quickly, "Mobile Control, go ahead Base."

"Scott, I've just spoken with Penelope and it seems this is turning into quite a complex rescue. Has John come up with anything yet?"

"No, Father," Scott shook his head. "I did think about approaching Dr. Hunt and challenging him about it all." He knew his father would conclude it was a bad idea, as he had done himself before Jeff called, but he couldn't help but raise the thought anyway.

"Don't do that, Scott, the last thing we need is the government knowing we're aware of what's going on. And if he's working with the government, as Penny seems to think, then they're sure to find out." Jeff sighed, "We're really in a fix here but it's imperative that we don't involve ourselves with the politics of all this. We're there to save lives, Son, not to make moral judgements about what they're doing. Hell, we don't know that these prisoners haven't volunteered."

"Dad," Scott sighed, "Come on, you don't really think that do you? I mean, why the hell would you volunteer for that?"

Jeff shrugged, "If you've got nothing to live for, Scott, it might be an attractive way out. Prisons aren't easy places to survive in." He frowned at the thought, the media representation of prison life had never been flattering but over the last decade or so, it had become worse. If the media was anything to go by, prison was a hell on earth.

"Okay, then," Scott conceded, "say they volunteered." He shrugged, "Why all the secrecy? How come there's no record of any of these guys?"

"Scott, if they kept them on record and then the vaccine failed, how would they explain it?" Jeff questioned. "I doubt there's a box on the paperwork for 'death by nuclear poisoning', imagine the suspicion it'd arouse." He shook his head, discounting the question.

"Hmm," Scott nodded, his reluctance clear. He studied his father carefully. Jeff Tracy was a very intelligent man who was well aware of what was or might be going on in this kind of situation. Scott struggled to explain why his father wasn't facing facts. "I know you don't believe all this," he told Jeff with a frown.

Jeff sighed, "No, you're right, I don't," he admitted. "Truth is I think exactly what you're thinking now but we can't jump to conclusions. We have to deal with this situation on the facts we have, you know that, Scott." Jeff looked directly at his son, hoping he understood.

"Yeah," another reluctant nod coming from the field commander, "and I know we're not in a position to do anything about it."

Jeff gave his own nod of satisfaction. "Maybe after all this is over, Penny could work on changing things; she can be very influential. Rest assured, Scott, we won't just leave them to it but we can't draw attention to the fact we know what's going on and approaching Dr Hunt would be doing just that." Jeff could see his eldest son wasn't happy with the situation but in truth, neither was he. Trying to focus Scott's thoughts on the rescue, Jeff asked, "Have you heard anything from Virgil?"

Scott suddenly frowned, "He was settling his passengers…" he trailed off glancing at his watch. "But that was a good twenty minutes ago, he should be moving by now."

Jeff was surprised to see Scott's eyes widen with uncharacteristic unease. Scott had always been protective of his younger brothers, but he'd discovered the hard way that they were all men now and that he couldn't protect them all the time. Especially out on a rescue, he'd learned to trust each of them in their designated field of expertise. Jeff was taken aback by the sudden concern in his eyes.

"Don't worry, Son," Jeff assured him. "Virgil's passengers might be injured, he may need to see to them first. We were aware that they might have inhaled some smoke."

"No, Father," Scott shook his head. "I spoke to Virgil earlier, he would've told me if that was the case. I'm going to call him, see what's going on." Jeff watched him turn away from the communications window and put a call in to his brother. If he was honest with himself, Jeff was beginning to feel as anxious as Scott, more so when he saw the expression on Scott's face as he returned his attention to the screen.

"He's not answering, Father," Scott replied. "I'm going to contact John, see if the Mole's moved since I last spoke to him."

"FAB, Scott, let me know," Jeff signed off. Heaving a sigh and shaking his head, he glanced up at Virgil's portrait. Then, taking a deep breath, he began the customary ritual of reminding himself that they'd been in worse situations than this before and had come out of them okay.

XxxxX

"Mole from Mobile Control," Scott's voice crackled through the speakers. "This is Mobile Control, respond."

Virgil swallowed and looked up to Jake, he noticed small beads of perspiration on the blond man's brow and awaited some kind of response from him. Jake just paced up and down, aware of Virgil's stare of anticipation but ignoring it.

"Mole from Mobile Control," Scott repeated, "Come in, Virgil."

"Virgil, huh?" Jake heaved a sigh, looking directly at his prisoner. "Well, we don't want your friends getting worried, you'd better get back to him."

"Look, what is it you want?" Virgil asked, frowning as he returned Jake's gaze. He kept his tone low and steady so as not to appear obstinate. Jake didn't reply and Virgil pushed further, hoping that his captor might explain a few things. "If you tell me what this is about, I might be able to help."

"We want our freedom back, can you help us with that?" Jake replied, his voice heavy with sarcasm. "We want to feel the sun on our backs and breathe fresh air again."

Virgil was thoroughly confused, "Why don't you tell me what's going on here?" he asked. He looked at the other two in turn, hopeful that he might get a response when Jake failed to deliver.

Billy leant forward, "We're not scientists," he sighed. "We're criminals." He paused only to look up at Virgil, expectant of some kind of response. Virgil sported a blank expression on purpose and waited for Billy to go on, "The government use this base to test vaccines on us. You see, we're the undesirables, no one notices if we go missing." His tone was bitter, and Virgil frowned at the anger in his voice. "They transfer us from one prison to another until we're lost in the system; it's called dispersal. That's when they take us out and bring us to this hell hole. They make their choices carefully, only take those of us with no family or regular visitors. They're not stupid and they know what they're doing." He shook his head, "As soon as you come through those doors, your life ends. You're stuck down here being prodded and poked like guinea pigs." He met Virgil's gaze and told him sincerely, "They carry out tests, and if you're lucky and you survive the tests and the vaccines. Then you get to do it all over again until you're not so lucky."

Jake stepped forward, ready to take over the tale. The anger in his eyes was almost tangible, "It's not pretty," he lifted his shirt up, revealing a diagonal scar from his breast bone right down to his waistline. "See this?" Virgil met his gaze and his eyes moved to the ugly scar before he nodded. "They did this," he shook his head again. "Show him Luke," he ordered.

The younger man's head snapped up at the mention of his name. "Jake…" he trailed off, reluctant to do as the older man was commanding. "He believes us," he turned to Virgil, "don't you?" he asked.

Virgil didn't have time to reply; he opened his mouth but Jake spoke over him. "I said show him, now show him!" he bellowed.

With obvious uncertainty, Luke took the scalpel he held and placed it in his right hand, he then held his left hand out in the space between the two bench seats. His hand shook with such vigour that it was uncontrollable and Virgil looked up at him in surprise, wondering how much of it was the stresses of the current situation.

"They were testing vaccines for nerve gas, there was an accident," Luke told him. "The shakes are one of the side effects of inhaling the gas," he shrugged. "The limbs are always the worse affected," he explained with a gentle tone. He paused and realised Virgil was staring at his trembling hand. Bringing his right hand up, he grasped his left hand and steadied it, bring it back to rest in his lap.

"It's all for the good of humanity. It'll help us to pay back the debt we owe to society," Billy growled. "That's what they keep telling us but we never got a choice, what if we don't want to pay back our debt to society? No-one asked us if we minded being used as guinea pigs," he waved a hand in anger. "And there are flaws in the system too." He nodded towards Luke again, "Luke's got a kid, it's not fair on him to be here, just because they never visited and he's not registered as the father. We might be scum to them, because we're criminals, but we don't deserve this, we have rights."

Virgil sighed and rubbed a hand over his head. He looked up at Luke and then to the other two before pinching the bridge of his nose.

"You believe us, don't you?" Luke asked, apprehension in his voice. He watched Virgil, taking in his every move with caution.

Virgil sighed a second time, "I do…" he looked Luke in the eye before shaking his head and letting the sentence trail off.

"But…" Jake finished for him.

"But," Virgil repeated, "I don't understand how all this happened. If it's as bad as you say, then why hasn't the government been informed of what's going on? Maybe if you went to them, they could help you," he suggested. "It'd do you more good than all this," he waved a hand gesturing to their surroundings.

"You don't get it, do you?" Jake shook his head, and then reached out to clap Luke's shoulder. "What did I tell you? I knew he wouldn't understand," he turned back to Virgil. Kneeling in front of him so that their eyes were level, Jake scoffed, "The government is behind all this. The bureaucrats are not going to do anything to stop it. What do they care if a few criminals are killed off? In fact, it's better for them, more scum off the streets, and the taxpayers aren't funding our life in prison, they win whichever way you look at it."

"So, why didn't you tell us all this in the first place?" Virgil frowned, "Why lie to us?"

"And risk you not coming at all?" Billy scoffed and leant forward, his lank hair fell into his eyes. "No way," he smoothed the strands back. "Can you honestly say you'd have still come down here to rescue us?"

"It wouldn't have been like that," Virgil assured them. "We don't discriminate, of course we would still have come." He looked around, "Haven't you just swapped one type or prison for another?"

"No," Billy replied. "You're our ticket out of here. We're going to get our freedom and we're going to tell the whole world about Hunt and what he's been doing." He looked across to Jake, "Tell him, Jake," he nodded. "Tell him what he's got to do."

Jake looked up at Billy, coming to a decision, he sat down alongside Virgil on the bench seat. Virgil's attention was drawn to the scalpel in his hands but he held Jake's gaze, waiting for the older blond man to explain. "You're going to get on to your mate up there," he gestured to the surface. "You said Dr Hunt was up there," Jake stated. "We want him to go to the newspapers and tell them what he's been doing and we want it published. By a well-known reporter too, someone we recognise, so that everyone can read it."

Billy nodded with enthusiasm, "Yeah," he agreed, "Then the whole world will know what they've been doing to us."

Virgil nodded, that was an understandable request, he thought. He waited for Jake to continue, "And …" Jake breathed deeply and bit his lips, still formulating their demands, "and we want a plane." He nodded to himself, "Yeah, we want a plane with a full tank of fuel."

"What kind of plane?" Virgil asked. When Jake glared at him, he defended himself, "They'll ask me, I need to know."

"Billy?" Jake asked, "What'll be easiest for you to fly?"

"Me?" Billy raised his eyebrows and pushed a hand against his chest. "Me, fly?" he asked astounded.

"Yeah, you," Jake frowned at him. "You told me you'd got a pilot's licence and that you'd flown before, when you were in the Navy." He didn't go any further when Billy started shaking his head in disagreement.

"No, not me. I haven't got a pilot's licence."

"You told me you had," Jake glared at his companion. His eyes widening and his face reddening, he pointed at the younger man in anger. "You said you'd flown before!"

"Well, I didn't mean I'd actually flown…" Billy shrugged and shuffled around in an awkward fashion. "Just this once when…"

Virgil watched them bicker and risked a glance towards Luke. The younger chocolate haired man was rolling his eyes. He raised his voice above the current squabbling, "Okay! Billy, can you or can't you fly a plane?"

Billy looked round the confines of the Mole and at Jake's angry glare before nodding, though his indecision was lucid. "Yeah," he paused. "Yeah, of course I can," he said, becoming a little more sure. "I'll be fine."

"You'd better!" Jake scoffed, "I don't want to escape from here only for you to kill us in some bloody plane!" He got to his feet again and began to pace, muttering angry comments. "So?" he asked Billy, "What plane?"

"Oh, err, I want something I'm familiar with," Billy looked towards Virgil, "Tell them it has to be a K40 jet."

Virgil frowned, "A K40 jet?" he asked in surprise. Billy's aviation knowledge must have been non-existent for him to request one of them; they had limited fuel capacity.

Jake picked up on Virgil's surprise, "What's so amazing about that?" he asked. His voice was rising in anger as he spoke and Virgil shook his head in a defensive gesture. "Do you know about planes? Are you a pilot?"

Virgil swallowed, knowing that if he told the truth he would be ordered to fly the plane so he shook his head. "No, I just umm … I heard about them that's all."

"Heard what about them?" Jake asked, taking menacing steps towards Virgil.

"Oh y'know…" Virgil bluffed, shrugging at Jake's fiery gaze. "Just heard the name mentioned back at base." He watched Jake nod, relieved that his captor seemed to have accepted his lies.

"Tell them the plane's got to have a full tank of fuel," said Jake, continuing to make demands, jabbing a finger in Virgil's direction. "And the whole area should be clear. If there's any police or government organisations up there when we get to the surface, then we'll kill you." He took the time to glare at Virgil and held the scalpel up threateningly, "I mean it."

Virgil took in the menacing look and the steady hand with which he held the scalpel. He didn't doubt Jake meant it. He never had. Jake took his nod as a sign to continue.

"The plane's not to be tracked and we're not to be followed, you understand?" Jake bellowed, waiting for another confirmation nod from Virgil. "You tell him that until our demands are met, we're staying down here."

Virgil licked his lips, "How long are you planning to stay down here?"

"Well that depends on whether your friends up there hurry up and get what we ask for," Billy told him, nudging him in the ribs.

Luke frowned, "Why?" he asked, contemplative of why Virgil would ask.

Virgil was pleased to see that at least Luke seemed to understand the practicalities of what they were doing. "Because this machine is a sealed unit, there's an air recycler that works off oxygen tanks but it won't last forever." Virgil began, explaining that the idea wasn't very realistic. "And it's hardly designed for long term accommodation. The recycler only re-uses air from within this cabin. We have no access to fresh air because outside of these doors, the air is contaminated with smoke."

"So, are you saying we're going to suffocate, if we don't surface?" Billy asked, his brow pulling together as he spoke.

There were a few moments where Virgil gave a grave nod. Silence followed as the other three tried to comprehend the enormity of what their hostage had just told them. After a few moments, Jake threw his head back and gave a raucous laugh.

"I've never heard anything so ridiculous in my life!" he exclaimed before looking at the concerned expressions his companions sported. He snorted in disbelief, "Oh, come on! You don't believe him, surely!" He shook his head in disgust, "There are submarines that go for months without surfacing. Don't tell me International Rescue haven't thought of a way round this one! It's just a ploy to get us to surface."

"Yeah, of course it is," Billy nodded, though cast an uncertain glance at Virgil. "We're not stupid you know," he added. "Don't take us for fools," he glared.

"Wait!" Luke looked between them and then back at Virgil. "What if he's telling the truth? Why would he lie?"

"Luke!" Jake exclaimed, "Don't be naïve! If we surface, there are probably a hundred of them," he gestured to Virgil, "just waiting to ambush us!"

"Ambush us!" Luke shook his head, "Listen to yourself, you're getting paranoid!"

Jake suddenly thrust his knife in Luke's face, "Don't you dare speak to me like that!"

Surprised that his attackers would turn on each other, Virgil spoke up in an effort to prevent Jake from doing some damage. "Let me show you," he said quickly, glancing between the two. "I told you already, this machine isn't designed for long term accommodation, I can show you how much air we have left."

Jake turned and looked at him his eyes conveying his scepticism, "Okay," he said. "Get up," he gestured for Virgil to move and raised his weapon. Slowly, and trying to appear as defensive as possible, Virgil lead the way over to one of the control consoles and took a seat. "Don't try anything," Jake warned. Virgil swallowed as he felt Jake's looming presence behind him. The hairs on the back of his neck stood up, sensing the scalpel was close by.

Virgil pushed the appropriate buttons and retrieved the relevant information, "The computer calculates that with four of us in here and the air recycler working at full capacity, we have approximately…" he paused, waiting for the figures to appear. "Twenty two hours and seven minutes of air left." He finished.

Jake sighed and swiped a hand over his brow. "Well then your little friends had better hurry up, hadn't they?" he said sarcastically. "Get over there and make the call," he motioned towards the other console, which Virgil had used earlier to contact his brother. "Tell them they have twenty two hours from now to meet our demands."

Virgil frowned. He took in a deep breath and looked up at Jake, aware that the scalpel the blond man held was still close to his throat. "You don't understand. In twenty two hours, the air will be un-breathable; we'll be dead. We need to surface before then."

Jake leaned forward until his mouth was alongside Virgil's ear, "I said twenty two hours," he husked. "You see…Virgil," his grin became malicious, "if your mates up there don't deliver, or if they call in outside help, I'll kill you." He shook his head and laughed, placing the scalpel in his hand against Virgil's windpipe, he turned to look his prisoner in the eye, "You think I won't," he stated. "I can see it in your eyes, but you'll learn. You think we need you to take us back to the surface?" he enquired, his eyebrow raised. "We don't."

"We don't?" Billy asked, from the bench seats behind them, as surprised at the revelation as Virgil was.

"No, we don't." Jake stated firmly, "If this goes wrong, one of two things is going to happen to us. At best, we can look forward to life imprisonment but worse case scenario, we'll end up in another 'research centre'," he screwed his face up. "Now, I don't know about you boys but to me, suddenly suffocation sounds quite appealing." Virgil saw the other two nod out the corner of his eye, and Billy responded in the affirmative. "Right," Jake sighed. "Now put that call in to your mate."

Reluctantly Virgil leant forward and reached a hand out to the headset he'd used before, "Uh uh," Jake responded. Adding pressure to where the scalpel rested against Virgil's neck, he leant forward and grasped the headset, "You didn't use this before, not to begin with."

Virgil swallowed, finding his mouth bone dry, "Mole from Mobile Control…" he said into the radio. Half of him prayed that Scott wouldn't answer but the other half needed the reassurance that his older brother would stop at nothing to get to him. He was about to try again when Scott responded, his live image appearing on the screen in front of them.

"Virgil!" Scott exclaimed, "About time! It's been nearly half an hour, I was starting to get…" he trailed off as he saw the expression on his brother's face. "What is it?" he asked, "What's wrong?" The scalpel Jake had pressed to Virgil's throat wasn't completely visible on the screen, but Scott's attention was drawn by it glinting in the artificial light.

Virgil swallowed, meeting Scott's gaze and holding it, "We've got a problem…"


	4. Chapter 4

_**In Too Deep – Chapter Four**_

Jeff Tracy felt the air rush from his lungs and struggled to replace it fast enough. His heartbeat echoed in his ears before slowing down to a near stop and he felt the edges of his vision begin to grey. He was just about to accept the fact that he was in very real danger of passing out when suddenly air surged into his lungs and his heart began pounding, echoed in his ears. Reaching out, he felt the desk behind him and leant against it.

The whole time his vision didn't move from his eldest son.

"Dad?" Scott asked, oozing anxiousness. Having seen his father pale and then reach out to lean against his desk, he was worried the shock might've been too much. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah," Jeff whispered. He cleared his throat and blinked a few times, forcing himself to be a commander and not a father. "Yes, I'm fine, Scott. How was Virgilwhen you spoke to him?"

"He seemed okay. He was calm and he's not physically hurt that I could see," Scott told his father. "Well, nothing worse than a split lip." He met Jeff's gaze, a deep frown dominated his features and he appeared apprehensive, despite the fact that Jeff knew he would be doing his utmost to hide it. "What are we going to do, Father?"

"Well I'll tell you what we're not going to do," Jeff replied sternly, "and that's panic." Scott gave an almost imperceptible nod and waited for his father to continue. "Does John know?" Jeff asked.

"No," Scott shook his head, "I called you right away. He's still trawling through information about these guys."

"Okay," Jeff sighed. "The way I see it, we only have one option: we have to go along with whatever they say."

"Father?" Scott frowned. He had expected his father to reiterate International Rescue's policy not to negotiate with hostage takers. "You realize we'll be setting a precedent?"

"Of course I realize that, Scott," Jeff came very close to snapping at his eldest son but took a deep breath and regained control. "But if they're as serious as you seem to think they are then Virgil's life is in their hands and we don't want to be doing anything to upset them." He noted the expression on Scott's face before he went on. "Don't worry, Son, they won't get away with it, I'll make damned sure of it."

The plan that was already forming in his mind released some of the tension he felt. Just doing something helped a little bit. Deep down though, Jeff Tracy was experiencing something he hadn't felt in a long, long time: fear, a very real, very valid, fear.

"Listen to me carefully, Scott," he lapsed into command mode with ease and tried to push his own thoughts and feelings aside. Virgil needed him to command their way out of this mess and he was adamant he wouldn't let his son down. "This is what's going to happen," Jeff told his eldest son, "I need you to get back to John and tell him what's going on. Then I want you to call Penelope and have her head over to you. You may need her help to track the plane when they leave. Speaking of which, I'll get Alan and Gordon working on finding one and arranging for it to be flown to you. Now, you said you spoke to Ned Cook earlier, answer me honestly, Scott, do you trust him?"

Scott hesitated, "He helped us out, Father, he went out on a limb to let me know everything he does about this place. Yeah," he decided. "Yeah, I trust him. The guy owes us his life and he said he'd do anything to help us." Scott took in his father's deep frown, "You want him to write the story?"

Jeff nodded, "Yes, I do. And I want you to make sure Dr. Hunt cooperates with him. They might have to work through the night on this one, but I want it ready and in a format that can easily be passed off as a newspaper front page. Brains can do that."

"What if Hunt won't help us, Father?" Scott queried.

"You have permission to be as persuasive as you feel you need to be, Son," Jeff nodded. "Our top priority is to get Virgil and those men out of all this alive; we'll deal with the consequences later." He smiled in satisfaction as the orders flew of his tongue smoothly.

Scott gave a brief nod, pleased his father was taking control. It helped to focus him in a way. He needed the reassurance of his father as much as the command of his superior. He was about to go about his tasks when a thought struck him, "Father, you said you wanted Penny here to track the plane? Does that mean we're going to install a tracker? They specifically said we weren't to do that."

"The tracker facilities on FAB1 will go undetected, Scott," Jeff assured him. "Even with the most advanced technology, they wouldn't pick up on it." He met Scott's gaze and held it, "When they make their escape, I want to know where the hell they're going."

The determination in Jeff's voice told Scott that wherever these three men went, he would be following them and ready to distribute his own brand of punishment. Scott had inherited his father's ethos when it came to threats; he didn't respond well and was equally determined that the perpetrators be brought to justice. Threats to the organisation or himself were one thing though, threats to his brothers were an entirely different matter.

"FAB, Dad," Scott responded with a nod.

Jeff sat back in his seat as the live image of his eldest son faded out. His eyes wandered to the portrait alongside Scott's and he let out a heavy, heartfelt sigh as his head dropped to his hand. It was going to be a long day.

XxxxX

Scott allowed himself a few minutes to recover after his conversation with his father, before putting a call in to John. Watching his own hands work the controls in front of him, he realised that he wasn't even thinking about what he was doing. Instead, he felt numb, unable to process what was happening. As his father had done a few minutes ago, he pushed his own feelings into the smallest compartment his soul could find, leaving them there to be dealt with another day.

Taking a deep breath, he flicked open a communications channel, "Thunderbird Five from Mobile Control."

"Scott, I was just about to…" John trailed off when he saw the expression on his older brother's face, not dissimilar to the reaction Scott had given when Virgil had called through. "What's wrong?"

Scott swallowed, "It's Virgil," he sighed. "Now, he's okay but those guys are holding him hostage until we meet their demands." He met John's wide eyed expression for all of two seconds, "Listen, John, Virgil's depending on us to get him out of there. We have to focus," he nodded at his own logic, trying to convince himself as much as John.

"Okay," John nodded and let out a heavy sigh, not really taking the time to comprehend what his brother was telling him. "What do you need me to do?"

Scott ran a hand over his face, "Can you get in touch with Ned Cook somehow? Get him to meet me in the clearing where we met before and tell him he has to come alone."

"Why?" John frowned. "Do you think he can help us somehow?"

"They want someone to write some kind of article, explaining to the world what this place does," Scott informed his blond brother. "They also want a jet, but Dad's got Gordon and Alan working on that. I'm going to meet with Cook. I'll try to get him to write the story and then we're going to have to ask him not to publish it until…" Scott trailed off when he realised John wasn't listening. "John?" he asked. "John?" he repeated a little louder, when he received no reply. John's head snapped up to look at him. "Come on, we've got to focus," Scott reminded him.

"Yeah," John nodded in reply, "yeah I know." He swiped a hand over his face, "I'll contact Cook and see what I can find out and let you know. In the meantime Scott," he added hesitantly, "there's something I think you should know. But you're not going to like it."

"Go on," Scott encouraged, a frown pulling his brow together, "What is it? Have you found something?"

"Kind of," John swallowed. "After Penny's information, I narrowed down the search to Home Office Criminal Records and the Police National Computer. Scott, these three guys are dangerous, it's all in these files." Scott waited whilst John's attention was diverted to another screen. "Listen to this. Jake Field, kidnapping, GBH, assault, murder. Luke Mathews, murder. William McConnell, armed robbery, three counts of possession of a firearm, assault occasioning ABH, theft…" he trailed off with a shake of the head. "The list goes on but all these guys follow a pattern; they have no family and no official next of kin. They were all classified as dangerous, so they were on a dispersal scheme. The idea was that they were separated and moved around, so as people didn't know where they were being held. Seems they were transferred around. A lot. They got lost in the system and then disappeared off the records."

Scott nodded gravely, half expecting an explanation of that calibre. "Okay thanks, John."

"Scott," John frowned, "This information was buried deep. All these files are marked with high security clearance. Five's search didn't pick it up, but I've managed to hack into databases manually. Whoever is behind this, they're doing a good job of covering their tracks. We weren't meant to find out."

"Alright, I'm going call Penelope and then I think I need to have a little talk with Dr. Hunt…" Scott told his brother, an eyebrow raised. "Call me if you hear anything more, and send a copy of those records through to Penelope, will you? I'll keep you informed from this end." He waited for a nod from John before closing the communications link down.

The thought that Virgil was stuck down there at knife point with three men who, it was evident, had no scruples about killing or at least hurting him, almost threatened to overwhelm Scott. But the camouflage was firmly in place and it was a well practised masquerade. He took a deep breath, the lines of the frown which seemed to have a constant place lining his face hardened and his eyes became determined in their task. He opened another radio channel, "Mobile Control to Lady Penelope."

He was unsurprised that the call was answered so quickly. Lady Penelope, if nothing else, could always be relied upon in a crisis.

"Lady Penelope speaking, go ahead, Scott," her blonde hair framed a winning smile through the communications window, but Scott was in no mood for smiling.

"Penelope, we've got a problem," he began. "Virgil's…" he couldn't believe he was about to say these words, "Virgil's been taken hostage. I need you to make your way over here. Dad wants you and Parker to fit a tracker to the plane they've requested and we want you to follow it."

"Oh, Scott," Penelope sighed and her smile became sympathetic, "I am sorry to hear that." Unsure what else to do, Scott nodded at her, indicating that they didn't have time to exchange pleasantries. The nod given, she felt it was safe to cut straight to the chase, "You know Parker and I will do whatever we can to assist you. But how does your father suppose we can possibly track an aeroplane from the ground?"

"Well, the jet they've requested is a K40. It doesn't have a very big fuel capacity," Scott told her. "In fact, they'll only get a couple of hundred miles out of her before they need to service and refuel it. These jets were designed for reconnaissance by the Navy so they're light weight and compact," Penelope listened, taking in all of Scott's expertise in the area. "The idea was that they could be stowed on aircraft carriers. We're hoping you'll be able to track it."

"I see, Scott," Penelope nodded. "We shall proceed to Wales immediately. I will apprise you of an estimated time of arrival as we approach. Lady Penelope, out."

Her signal disappeared and Scott pinched the bridge of his nose. He hoped this plan worked. Wherever these guys went he agreed wholeheartedly that they shouldn't get away with what they'd done. His main concern though, was his brother and getting him back in one piece. Scott gave himself a few minutes to build himself up for his discussion with Dr Hunt, but the more he thought about it, the angrier he felt. After a few moments, he pushed himself away from the Mobile Control console, intent to walk across to the scientist and confront him. He was surprised though, when he turned round and Dr Hunt was already there.

His surprise showed as Dr Hunt motioned to the console and began to explain his presence, "I saw the commotion. I was worried. It's been a long time, is everything okay?"

"No," Scott shook his head, stopping himself from jumping forward and yelling at the scientist that maybe if they'd told the truth none of this would've happened. He didn't have time for maybes though. "No, Dr. Hunt, everything is not alright. Your colleagues," Scott stressed the word, "are holding my colleague hostage until we meet their demands."

Dr Hunt paled, his eyes widening as he raised his shaking hand up to his mouth, "Oh my gosh! I'm so sorry, I never… I'm sorry," he muttered, shaking his head. He paused and raised one of his white eyebrows. "What are their demands?"

"That you go to the newspapers and tell them everything about this place." Dr Hunt was already shaking his head and Scott could see he had a fight on his hands. "I'm arranging for a journalist to be brought in right now, so you can tell the world what you've been up to down there."

"No," Dr Hunt shook his head, "No, I can't. I'm sorry, but I can't," he replied adamantly.

"You can," Scott told him, his tone assuring that there was no room for discussion. "And you will."

"No, no you don't understand." Dr Hunt thrust a hand into his pocket and brought out a miniature communications device. "I must call Mr Foster back, he'll know what to do. This is terrible. It's err, a matter of National Security."

Scott snatched the device from his hands. "You're not calling anyone Doctor, you're going to meet with this journalist and tell him everything. If my friend doesn't come out of this, you'll regret it. Do we understand each other?"

"Are … Are y-you threatening me?" Dr Hunt frowned at Scott, adjusting his glasses and screwing up his nose.

"Look, Dr. Hunt," Scott sighed. "You've got two options here: you either tell the journalist your story and we'll do our best to stop him from printing it, or you don't tell him anything and I'll tell it for you." He leant forward, "And I'll make damned sure they print every word."

Dr Hunt eyed Scott for a few minutes, screwing his nose up again and fumbling with his glasses before, nodding. "Okay," he sighed. "Okay, I'll do it."

"We want the truth," Scott told him. He reached out a firm hand to the scientist's shoulder and guided him to a seat by the Mobile Control unit. Scott pushed him into it, perhaps a little harshly. "So how about we have a practice run through ….now," his tone of voice made sure that the scientist understood it wasn't a suggestion. Scott didn't have time to mess around when his brother's life was at stake.

XxxxX

Gordon and Alan worked feverishly and in complete silence, bar the tapping of keyboards and the constant murmuring of the computers. On occasion, Alan looked across at his brother ready to break the silence but, when Gordon didn't notice, he'd turn back and continue his search.

Finally, he took a deep breath and swivelled round in his chair to face his brother. Gordon continued tapping at the computer in front of him, not noticing the sudden movement.

"Gordy," Alan tried to get his brother's attention, but he was too busy frowning at the information on the screen. "Gordon," he tried again.

"What?" Gordon looked up at him, a sudden hope in his eye, "Have you found something?"

Alan hated to deflate Gordon's anticipation but swallowed and shook his head, "No." He sighed, "The computer's still searching though." He bit his lip in hesitation. "Gordy, do you think we're going to pull this off?"

Gordon turned to face his younger brother, placing the pencil in his hands on to the keyboard, "We won't if we don't focus and find one of these planes."

Alan nodded, taking the hint that Gordon didn't want to talk about it. Neither of them could really 'focus' with the current pressure they felt, Virgil was depending on them. Alan turned back to the computer, watching it search through areas for a K40 jet. After another few minutes of tense quiet, he couldn't take it any longer. Heaving a heavy sigh, he turned again and opened his mouth to speak.

"No," Gordon beat him to it. "I haven't found anything since the last time you asked, all of," he paused to glance at his watch, "three minutes ago."

Alan shrugged an apology, "I'm sorry."

Gordon ran a hand over his forehead and turned in his seat again, "No, I'm sorry; I didn't mean to snap but I…I just need to concentrate."

"Dad seemed pretty tense," Alan ventured. "He's worried, isn't he?" He didn't wait for an answer, "I can tell. God, I wish we could go out there…" he sighed longingly.

"I know," Gordon nodded, "me too. But Dad was right about us being there. It wouldn't do anyone any good. Scott doesn't need the extra hassle right now and we're needed here to help find this plane." He paused, understanding how his younger brother was feeling. "I know," he offered Alan a small smile, "but we're making a difference here."

"What do you think it's like out there?" Alan asked. "I'll bet Scott's worried, but he won't be showing it. He'll be ordering people around, and then when no-one's looking he'll do that thing. Y'know? When he pinches his nose and closes his eyes? That's when you know he's really uptight."

"Yeah," Gordon agreed, imagining his older brother doing exactly that. "And John'll be working on finding anything and everything he can on these guys. He'll be running around up there," he gestured to Thunderbird Five high in space above him and grinned. "Throwing himself in to it, to avoid thinking about what's going on down here and how far away he is."

Alan nodded, grinning at Gordon's description of his astronaut brother. "What about Virgil?" he asked, sobering. "How do you think he'll be handling all this?"

"Hmm, Virgil," Gordon mused. "Scott said he was okay when he spoke to him and Scott, of all people, would know." He needed to say those words aloud, even though they both knew it. "He'll deal with it. Y'know Virgil, he's strong, he'll be okay."

Alan bit his lip pensively, "I've been trying to imagine it. Y'know, what it must be like for him down there." He shook his head, "I don't think I could stick it out. It must be horrible." Gordon had made it obvious he didn't really want to discuss the matter, so Alan kept his thoughts short. "He must be scared, I know I would be. I'd be petrified. I … On the San Miguel bridge that time… well, I was…"

"No, you weren't," Gordon disagreed. "And neither will Virgil be. Come on, Al," he smiled. "We both know Virgil isn't scared of anything and he's ninety nine point nine percent muscle. Remember when we tried to move him off that lounger when he was asleep?" Gordon laughed, making every effort to lighten the atmosphere. "Geez, I don't think Thunderbird Two could have lifted him!"

Alan snorted a laugh, "Yeah, that was funny. And remember when we tried to scare him with those tarantula things?

It cost me $170 to get the radio controlled mechanism and he just squashed them like them were bugs or something." He laughed again, shaking his head at the memory, another one of Gordon's jokes that turned out not to be so funny. At his expense, too. He'd paid for three spiders, only to have Virgil bring a hardback copy of 'Engineers Monthly' down on top of them.

"See, he's not scared of anything," Gordon said as his grin relaxed. "He'll be fine, you'll see. He'll come out of this just fine."

"I hope so, Gords," Alan replied, his tone sombre. "Dad's not that confident, I know it and it's starting to rub off on me."

"Hmm," Gordon muttered, unhappy at the fact and unwilling to discuss it. "Well Dad's had a bad feeling about all this from the start…"

"Wait!" Alan jumped to his feet and began tapping at the computer in front of him. "How wide is Thunderbird Four? About ten feet?"

"What?" Gordon frowned, and hurried across to stand alongside his brother. He read the information on the screen quickly before releasing Alan was still waiting an answer. "Oh, uh, eleven. Why, what are you thinking?"

"The fuselage on these planes is about eleven feet wide. Thunderbird Four has plenty of space in Pod Four." Alan frowned in concentration, "Thunderbird Two's about sixty feet high, raised to a hundred and ten when the legs are extended. So, that must mean that the pod is roughly fifty feet high, right?"

"Right," Gordon nodded but frowned at his brother's calculations, "So?"

"So," Alan told him, a grin forming on his lips. "One of these planes would fit in a standard pod. Two can carry up to one hundred tons, these things were designed to be light, say they're about fifty or sixty tons, eighty maximum. We could transfer these planes to Wales using Two!" Alan exclaimed excitedly, "And I found one earlier in San Francisco but I ruled it out because it was too far away."

Gordon smiled at his younger brother, leaning forward to look at his plans. "That's great, Al, we'd better go tell Father." His smile suddenly faded as he thought the idea through, applying logic, "Uh oh," he frowned. "Al, for this to work, we'd have to fit this plane in sideways and, look, they have a wingspan of twenty four feet," he extended his hand out to the information on the screen.

The smile well and truly wiped off his face, Alan rushed forward to the screen to see for himself. "But they'll still fit!" he exclaimed. "We just need to think of a way to get them in there, that's all."

"Al," Gordon shook his head. "That isn't going to work."

"Sure it is!" Alan wouldn't be defeated, "We could dismantle the wings or something and then re-assemble them in England. They're hinged for storage anyway, so we'd only have a hinge and a hydraulic ram to re-assemble."

"Wales," Gordon corrected him. "It's possible. We'd be pushing it for the time to do that though. Don't forget the time difference," he admitted silently calculating the times in his head. A beeping noise from the computer he was working at caught his attention and he walked over to it, still mulling the idea over.

"They'll be dead by the time we got there," Alan pointed out, his expression becoming miserable.

"I've got it!" Gordon exclaimed, bending over his computer screen. "Look!" he exclaimed, pointing at the screen in front of him. The excitement in his tone had Alan rushing to his side in a heartbeat. "Look!" he said again. "There's a K40 jet in Ireland, a place called Wicklow. It's just south east of Dublin, here," Gordon brought up a map and pointed out the area. "Now Scott and Virgil are…" he trailed off as he enlarged the map. "Here," he pointed again. "South of the Claerwen Reservoir. It shouldn't be too difficult to fly in from there," he said, smiling hopefully at his younger brother.

"Yeah, now we just need to find an airport where we can refuel it." Alan smiled back. "Come on, we'd better go let Dad now."

Feeling a lot more hopeful than they did a before, they both made their way up to the lounge to tell their father the good news.

XxxxX

Virgil fingered his watch with his right hand. He was biding his time to open a channel to John and he had been for what seemed like an eternity. He'd hoped hours ago that his captors would somehow cause another distraction, arguing like they had before. But to his dismay, nothing had happened. Instead, whilst he sat on edge waiting for an opportunity, his three temporary cohabiters were making themselves at home. Jake had remained at the control console, feet stretched out in front of him and Luke was laid on his back on one of the bench seats, rotating Virgil's gun round his finger in a constant motion.

"Hey!" Billy returned from exploring the storage cupboard at the back of the main cabin. "Look, what I found!" he exclaimed as he opened his arms and several energy bars fell onto the seat. "And that's not all either!" He scurried off again and Virgil winced at the visions he had of the criminal coming back with the laser cutters.

Luke sat up and picked one of the bars up, "Food? Great! I'm starving," he said as he unwrapped one and then screwed his nose up. "What are these things?" he asked, turning to Virgil.

"They're energy bars. They don't taste particularly nice but they contain vitamins and stuff," Virgil informed him. He was beginning to feel despondent and it showed in his tone of voice. "We use them when we don't have time to eat."

Luke nodded and cautiously bit into one; he screwed his face up as if he was sucking on a bitter lemon but managed to swallow. "See what you mean about them not tasting nice," he admitted as he sat back and threw one across the cabin to Jake. Virgil hoped he'd be offered one, even though he knew the taste wasn't all that appealing, his stomach was rumbled with hunger. He'd exhausted himself cutting through to the scientists and he'd skipped breakfast to get there in the first place. He was hungry and thirsty.

Luke recognised Virgil's longing glance and held one of the bars out to him, "Would you like one?" he asked.

Virgil nodded slowly and reached a hand out to take the proffered bar, when it was snatched out of his grasp. He looked up, from his position on the floor, and was unsurprised to see Jake's ominous pose above him.

"What are you doing!" the blond exclaimed. "Haven't I taught you anything?" He shook his head in disgust at Luke and then sat back down. "You've got to show him who's boss now. It's important we establish a hierarchy." He tapped on the side of his head, "It's psychological, see. We have a command structure just like society has a class structure. He has to understand he's at the bottom," Jake smirked. "And they say that criminals are always the underclass." He laughed to himself, tapping the edge of the scalpel he carried against the control console, "It's kind of ironic because in here, you're the underclass." He turned his gaze to Luke and told him firmly, "No fraternising with the enemy."

"The enemy are the scientists and the pen pushers behind all this, Jake," Luke shook his head. "He's just an innocent person," he said, waving a hand at Virgil. "The least we can do is feed him. If you can call this stuff food," he screwed his nose up again.

"Okay, if he wants it, make him ask for it." Jake turned a hard expression and steely eyes towards Virgil. "If you want some of this crap, you ask for it." When Virgil made no attempt to respond he went on, "He needs to learn that up there," Jake raised his eyes heavenward, "he might've been something, a big hero, but down here he's nothing."

Annoyed and infuriated by the constant psychobabble, Virgil sighed and shook his head, "I'm not hungry." The growling from his stomach told the others in the room otherwise, but he wasn't about to let them humiliate him. His pride was something he valued and he wasn't going to give up that easily. He pushed himself to his feet and began walking towards the back of the cabin. A rough hand on his arm stopped him and he turned quickly only to find Jake's scalpel pressed, once more, against his skin.

Virgil sighed and rolled his eyes. The more Jake did it, the more he got used to the sensation of the cold metal against his skin and the less it shocked him. "I need to use the bathroom," Virgil informed him, returning the unbreakable gaze.

With a growl of anger, Jake pushed him backwards against the bench seat. Virgil stumbled back and hit his head hard on the corner of the seat. He felt Jake's hand in his hair, yanking his head backwards. Automatically, Virgil lashed out, trying to fight himself free but Jake's hand was already round his throat. Virgil barely had time to recover from the wrenching motion before he realised Jake was slowly crushing his windpipe. He coughed and spluttered for the required oxygen.

"You don't go anywhere without one of us now," Jake snarled into his ear. "You hear me?"

Virgil struggled to get an answer out, trying desperately to release Jake's hands from the iron strong grip they had around his neck. Realising the reason for Virgil's lack of response, Jake slackened his grip, but only a little.

"Okay," Virgil coughed. Jake released him and he crashed to the floor like a lead weight, gasping for urgently required breath.

"You're too soft, Luke!" Jake smirked as he wandered back to his seat at the main control console. "You need hardening up, Mate," he smiled.

Luke just glared at him, and shook his head. "Get up, Virgil," he said. "I'll take you, come on. Which way is it?"

Virgil stumbled to his feet and glared at Jake, before leading Luke to an unmarked starboard hatch, they disappeared through it and into a small corridor. Virgil opened the first door on his right and stepped inside, closing it in Luke's face.

"Jake knows what he's doing," Luke's voice floated through the thin door as Virgil leant against the mirror and looked at himself. "He's done this kind of thing before, y'know, professionally," Luke continued. Virgil didn't reply, instead turning away from the hand basin and using the toilet. "That's how he knows all that psycho stuff. Y'know," Luke said again, after a few minutes, "I can't decide whether you're really brave or really stupid. If you keep this up, he will kill you."

"I know," Virgil told him, distracted by his thoughts.

"Then you're stupid," Luke decided. "You're not just killing yourself, you're killing all of us. You'll be as much a murderer as I am," he waited for a response but didn't receive one.

Instead, on the other side of the door, Virgil held his hands under the taps in the basin. When the water started flowing, he raised his watch and switched the sound down before silently opening a channel with Thunderbird Five.

"Vir…" John's picture appeared on the screen but trailed off when Virgil put a finger to his lips, indicating he be quiet.

"Are you nearly done in there?" Luke was asking through the door.

Virgil gestured to his brother, informing him that he couldn't talk. John nodded, mouthing the words, 'Are you okay?'

Virgil nodded and signalled that he would leave his watch on sound only. From the other side of the door Luke tried the handle and asked again, "Virgil, come on. I mean it! I might not be Jake but I'm not a walkover either!"

Virgil motioned to his brother that he had to go and John nodded. He signed the words 'be careful' before Virgil flicked the communications device to sound only and opened the door.

"About bloody time!" Luke exclaimed as Virgil immerged. "I was beginning to think you'd got swallowed up. I'm warning you," he pushed a finger at Virgil's chest, "Don't take me for a ride."

Virgil had to stop suppress a laugh. Luke was a little younger than he was but easily matched Virgil's build. His attempts at following Jake's example and appearing intimidating were… well, far from intimidating. Virgil swallowed, though his heartbeat echoed in his ears and he took a deep breath. He knew that if Jake found out what he'd just done, there was no doubt as to his reaction. "I'm sorry, Luke, really I am," Virgil's apology was sincere enough.

Luke just gestured back to the main cabin, "Get in there."

Virgil entered the cabin to find Jake hadn't moved but that Billy had reappeared, with the bottled water they had stored in the cupboard.

"Look what I found!" the blond smiled. "Here," he threw a bottle to Luke and Virgil noticed the other two were already drinking. Deciding to keep a low profile, he sat down in the gap between the seats and watched them drink.

He was parched. The heat from the fire and the exertion from cutting through the steel doors had left him dry and dehydrated. He yearned for just a mouthful of the water that the other three gulped down.

He tried to take his mind off it. Noticing that Luke had gone back to playing with his gun, he made a show of saying, "Be careful there, Luke, I know my gun's the preferred weapon over the three scalpels you brought but it's not one hundred percent safe, especially when you toss it around like that."

His watch vibrated and he knew John had received the message. He went on stating the obvious, giving John all the details he could before Jake told him in no uncertain terms to shut up. Reluctantly, Virgil sat back and lapsed into silence.

Billy was busy sharing out the water and the energy bars between the three of them but Luke turned back to Jake with a frown. "So, what now?"

"Now, we wait," Jake glanced at his watch. "Hey, Billy, were there any blankets in that storage room?" Billy nodded and pushed himself to his feet, going to fetch the requested items. "I guess we might as well get some sleep. Big day ahead of us tomorrow," he said casually glancing at his watch.

Virgil glanced at his own watch. The time had gone surprisingly quickly and he struggled to believe that they'd been down there hours as opposed to minutes. He rechecked the time. Sure, he was tired from the adrenaline rush and the exertion of the rescue, but he wasn't ready to sleep yet. As he watched Jake stretch and yawn, and Billy hand out the blankets, a plan formed in his mind.

XxxxX

"I've got good news and bad," John told Scott as soon as the line was established. "Which one do you want first?"

"Bad?" Scott frowned, "How can this possibly get any worse?" He took in John's raised eyebrow, "Okay, give me the bad news first."

John nodded, "Gordon and Alan have found a K40 jet, somewhere in Ireland."

"They've found one? That's not in a museum?" Scott grinned at his brother through the communications window. "That's good news! It's great, how fast can they get it here?" The older brother asked, enthusiasm evident in his voice for the first time in a long while.

"Well…." John shrugged. "That's where the bad news comes in. They can't find an air field close enough where they can refuel it. But they're still looking and Brains is on the case," not wanting to dwell on the thought that they may not manage to get the jet to Wales in time, John moved on. "The good news is, Virgil contacted me," as John had predicted, Scott's head shot up to look at him. Without the need for questioning, he readily told his older brother everything, "He managed to open up a line with me about half an hour ago. I would have called, but he's been keeping me busy, dropping hints. So far, I know that they have three scalpels and they're using his gun. They've found the food and water supplies," he knew Scott was concerned about the necessities and was pleased when the news seemed to relieve his brother. "But as far as I can make out, they haven't given Virgil anything yet."

Scott nodded but he was distracted. John's words reminded him that he hadn't eaten yet either. He resolved to grab a bar from Thunderbird Two, "Did you speak to Virgil? Is he okay?"

John shook his head, "Only for a few seconds. He said he was okay, but he looked a little flushed. He was on edge, Scott," he admitted. "I'm monitoring the feed from his watch."

"Okay," Scott nodded. "Well, I've set up a tent between One and Two, Dr. Hunt and Ned Cook are in there now." He scratched the back of his head, "Penny and Parker are heading this way too, they're about an hour out."

"What about Cook?" John seemed sceptical, a deep frown formed on his features. "You really think we can trust him?"

Scott sighed, "Yeah, I think we can." He could see John was wondering whether he was beginning to place his anxiety for Virgil's safety over the practicalities of what they were doing. "He won't say anything, John, and if I ask him not to publish this story, I know he won't. He's changed a lot since what happened in New York," Scott saw his brother was unconvinced. "You weren't there at his show, he's genuinely grateful."

"Hmm," John raised his eyebrows. "Good, because this could be damaging to us too, if it got out. Don't get me wrong, Scott, I'm worried about Virgil, of course I am, and I want him back as quickly and as safely as is possible. But if people see that we'll respond to threats then we're going to become a target."

"I said the exact same thing to Dad. Don't worry, these guys aren't going to get away with it, John. They'll get their just desserts, you'll see," Scott nodded. "Penny's always had a soft spot for Virgil, and now that she's on the case I can't see them getting away lightly."

John grinned at the comment. Though Scott had always remained tight-lipped about it, despite John's best attempts otherwise, there was something in the air when both Virgil and Penelope were mentioned. John often wondered how his second oldest brother really felt about the British aristocrat. He was sure Scott knew everything; he usually did when it came to Virgil. "What makes you say that?" John asked, not so discreetly. "Or, are you still sore from when she went on that rescue and chose to travel with Virgil to the Sahara Desert, instead of you?"

Scott scowled good naturedly, "I've told you a thousand times, John. That had nothing to do with Penelope deciding anything. I'd already left before Dad gave her the go ahead. She'd missed the boat." He was grateful for the distraction. Anything to take his mind from the dark places it had wondered into before John had called.

"Sure she did," John grinned back. He knew his older brother a lot better than anyone ever gave him credit for and though he could never understand just how worried Scott was, he had a good idea. To him, Virgil might not have been the soul mate he was to Scott, but he was still his brother.

Scott's grin faded and the gravity of the situation fell back down on his shoulders. The relief was a nice break from the intense apprehension he had been experiencing. "I hate the idea of him being down there with those guys," he admitted.

"I know," John nodded. "Me too, but you know Virgil as well as anyone, Scott. He's not stupid, he can handle himself and he'll think things through. It takes a lot to send him over the edge." John smirked, "Just ask Alan and Gordon."

Scott's frown didn't lift, as John had expected, at the mention of the younger two. "He doesn't respond well to threats, John."

"Yeah," John agreed. "And he doesn't feel threatened all that easily either. Scott, he's doing fine. He's not the first one of us to be held at gunpoint, remember all that on the Ambro River, last year?"

"Remember it?" Scott scoffed, "How could I forget it?"

John watched as Scott sighed and ran a hand over his eyes, "What?" John asked. Getting the distinct impression he'd just put his foot in it, he waited for Scott's reply. The expression on his face didn't bode well.

"It's just…" Scott began, and then shrugged. "Nothing, it doesn't matter." John opened his mouth to press further but Scott beat him to it, "How's that fire now?" Back to business, John thought glumly, a sure sign Scott didn't want to talk about it. And when John thought about it, he could understand why, now was not the time or the place.

"The fire's contained. In fact, I checked the research center's main computer a few minutes ago and it looked like it was starting to die out." John relayed, checking another console whilst he continued to speak to his brother. "The fire fighting equipment they have installed down there is top of the line. Even Brains is impressed. This could have been a thousand times worse if we'd had that to contend with too."

"Yeah, well," Scott muttered back. "At least they got something right." He turned away from John to answer shouting from his left, "John, I've got to go. Cook wants me in the tent."

"Okay," John smiled back as hopefully as he felt he could. "I've got FAB1 on the radar, ETA fifty five minutes."

"FAB," Scot nodded. "I'd better set up the sleeping quarters in Thunderbird Two for Penny and Parker."

"What about you?" John frowned. Scott had been dealing with this situation all day and already looked as exhausted as he felt. John knew that when it came to it, Scott would be the last one to sleep right now. "You need to get some rest, Scott, you've got to be sharp." He hesitated, reading all the signs that Scott had no intention of sleeping. "For Virgil's sake," he added, a little uncertain of how his older, controlling brother would react to the gentle persuasion.

Scott glared up at him, "Yeah, and if this newspaper report isn't finished or that plane isn't here when they surface, me being a little cranky will be the least of Virgil's worries." John opened his mouth to apologise, ready to explain what he actually meant by the comment. But for the second time during their conversation, Scott beat him to it. "I'll let you know if there's any change. Call me if Virgil contacts you again." Scott hesitated, "If he does call, tell him… tell him to sit tight and that we're doing everything we can. But be careful, John, the last thing we need is those guys figuring out we're in contact with him."

"FAB," John nodded. He would have expanded further but Scott had already closed the link.

John let his head drop and pushed a big breath through pursed lips. They hadn't experienced a rescue this tough for a long, long time. In fact, he seriously wondered if they'd ever encountered a rescue this tough. Alan and Grandma had been threatened and forced up to the San Miguel Bridge, which had been harrowing for them all. And Scott had been held hostage by Culp on the Ambro River and taken prisoner by the Zombites in the Pyramid of Khamandides. That thought caused John to halt what he was doing. Maybe that was why Scott was so on edge about all this. He knew what Virgil would be going through down there better than most. Or maybe it ignited past experiences that Scott would've rather remained in the past. John shook his head, not wanting to dwell on the notion.

XxxxX

Virgil glanced at his watch again, it had been another five hours since he'd first managed to contact John but he knew his brother would be listening. Virgil had watched the other three demolish their way through two boxes of energy bars. Too proud to ask, he'd just sat back and watched them in disgust. After sitting on the floor whilst the other three discussed strategy for a good three hours, he was pleased when Jake announced that they should all try to get some sleep. Not to be trusted on his own, Jake had decided that they would take turns to listen out for any radio contact and keep an eye on Virgil.

Virgil gingerly allowed his eyelids to part, just enough to see out. Jake and Billy were both asleep on either of the bench seats, a blanket draped over either of them, but Luke was sat opposite him. The younger man's eyelids had been drooping for the last ten minutes. Sure enough, Virgil continued his covert operation and watched as Luke's head sagged too.

Virgil lay perfectly still, shivering against the cool of the metal floor he laid on. There had been no offer of a blanket and though the life support systems were functioning, the air recycler was struggling and probably using most of the power. As a result, the air flowing was cool but stuffy and without the cover of a blanket and being on the floor, Virgil was feeling the chill more than the others were. If there was any doubt before about the oxygen levels in the air, there could be none now. The air quality had disintegrated over the last few hours, to the point where Virgil wondered if the computer had over calculated their time left. He gave it a few minutes more, to ensure that Luke was suitably asleep.

Silently he let his eyes open and adjust to the lighting. He had thought long and hard about what he was about to do. If it worked, it would be over and they would be heading back to the surface within minutes. On the other hand, if it didn't, it could all be over in a completely different way.

His heart pounded in his chest and his breathing became unsteady. He felt a weird combination of fear and tension, a feeling that Virgil wasn't used to at all. He swallowed and tried to gain some control over his trembling hands, another thing he noted that he wasn't used to experiencing.

Virgil took in a deep breath and blew it out, now was his chance. He raised his watch to his lips. "John," he kept his voice low, a mere whisper barely loud enough to hear over the snoring coming from the bench seats. "John," he tried again. "If you can hear me, they're all asleep. I'm going to try something…"

Virgil was surprised that he didn't get a response. He knew his brother would be busy but he also knew that neither Scott nor John would be getting much sleep right now. He wondered if there was some kind of problem with the communications and checked that the channel was still open. From the bench seat to his left, Billy groaned and turned over.

The noise startled Virgil and he jumped, holding his breath until Billy settled again. He sighed and wiped a hand over the sweat forming on his brow. Realising just how jittery he was, he made a new effort to calm himself. He got to his feet as silently as he could and moved through the cabin with slow precision. Firstly, he headed towards Luke and retrieved his gun from where it'd fallen into the young kidnapper's lap.

It wasn't difficult for Virgil to move Luke's limp hand out of the way and take possession back of the firearm. In fact, all was going very smoothly as he crept past his sleeping captors and headed for the storage bay at the back of the cabin. He tiptoed along, taking in every one of Billy's strident snores, every creak of the floor and every second of the constant whirring coming from the fans in the background. But as he reached a hand out to the door, something made him hesitate.

"Where do you think you're going?"

Silence.

Virgil froze, his chest rising and falling at about the same frequency his heart was beating. He swallowed, realising that the silence gave everything away in itself.

Billy's snoring no longer echoed around the empty cabin.

Virgil closed his eyes as he felt a razor-sharp, pointed edge press against the base of his neck. He cursed himself.

Wrapping his fingers around the gun in his hands, he took a deep breath. Turning with a speed and precision that Scott would have been proud of, he raised an arm up and knocked the scalpel away. Proceeding to level the barrel of the gun between Billy's eyes, he belatedly heard the metal knife clatter to the floor.

Virgil's finger tightened around the trigger in anger but he hesitated.

"You're not going to shoot me," Billy smiled at him, his smug grin just furthering Virgil's anger. "International Rescue's about saving lives isn't it? You couldn't deal with the fallout if you did."

Deep down he knew he could never live with himself if he pulled the trigger; however, Billy's certainty caused rage to explode inside of him. He felt the heat building behind his eyes, fury at their attitude and fury at himself for getting caught.

"You're very confident about that," Virgil observed.

"Go on," Billy told him. "Pull the trigger, see how far you get." Beads of sweat broke out on Virgil's forehead as he fought a battle of wills inside him. He so wanted to do exactly that, his brain was telling him it was the only way out of this disastrous situation but his heart was telling him he'd never forgive himself for ending another person's life. No matter what they were doing.

"Course, if you do," Billy went on, shrugging his shoulder. "You realise that makes you no different from us. You'll be a murderer. A criminal, scum of the earth."

Virgil's ragged breathing was the only thing that broke the tense silence as the drama unfolded. He struggled, his grip tightened again on the trigger but he couldn't work up the energy to pull it. Deep down he knew it was his only way out. Jake would make him pay now so it was a case of his life or Billy's. It still went against everything he stood for, though.

Strangely enough, the conversation he'd had with his father in his final year at Denver sprang into his mind and replayed itself. Jeff had wanted him to follow Scott's example and join the Air Force. Virgil's reasoning for not going was the potential killing. He'd told his father he didn't believe in it and after much discussion, Jeff had respected his decision. With three ex-service men in the house though, the idea of killing in the name of your country had always been a debating point and one that Virgil had always avoided. Jeff's words played over in his head, '_You don't have to fight to be a man in this house, Virgil, you know that. But you're getting older and it's a dog eat dog world out there. I think a stint in the Air Force would do you good._'

"Go on!" Billy's cry startled Virgil back into the presence. "Do it!" Billy's own hand was on the barrel of the gun, pushing it harder against his forehead.

Virgil frowned, torn. The sweat now running down his face, like streams to the open river. '_Sometimes it's kill or be killed; the choice is as simple as that,_' Scott's voice this time, no doubt the product of one of their 'discussions'. With that in mind, Virgil Tracy did something he always told himself he never would.

He held the gun steady against Billy's forehead.

He closed his eyes.

And he pulled the trigger.


	5. Chapter 5

_**In Too Deep – Chapter Five**_

Jeff Tracy sat back from the chaos ensuing in front of him and ran a hand over his tired features. He glanced at his watch. It had been over ten hours since he'd received news that his son was being held hostage. He wondered how Virgil would be handling it down there but he was mildly reassured by his thoughts. Of all his sons, Virgil was the most level headed, rational and sensible. He wouldn't make any rash decisions and could be relied upon to keep his head together, even in the worst possible situations. This was definitely one of the worst possible situations.

"What about this one, Mr Tracy?" Tin-Tin was pointing at a spot on the large, ceiling to floor map in the middle of the lounge. "I think it's the closest to the Claerwen Reservoir that we're going to find."

Jeff didn't reply. They'd looked at what felt like hundreds of airfields. In fact, it was probably only thirty or so. The problem they were faced with was that advances in technology meant most private jets now had a much larger fuel capacity and therefore, predominantly used the larger aerodromes. As a result, many of the smaller ones around in the earlier part of the century had closed down through lack of trade.

"Y'know," Jeff shook his head. "I can remember a time when airfields like this were two a penny," he commented wistfully, as he got to his feet and walked the short distance to where Tin-Tin stood. He looked closely at the spot she was pointing to. "Okay, Cardiff it is."

Alan peered over Tin-Tin's shoulder, a hand comfortably placed on her back. "We won't need that much fuel anyway, just to top her off. It's not like she'll be empty."

"Right," Jeff cleared his throat and looked around the room. "Tin-Tin, I want you to fly Alan to Dublin. Take Tracy One, it's the fastest jet we have. Now we don't have time to waste on this one, Virgil's depending on us to pull this off." He turned to Alan, "From Dublin, I want you to fly the K40 across to Cardiff, top off the fuel supply and then head to Scott's position." Looking to the young assistant engineer at his son's side, he continued, "Tin-Tin, you head straight back here with Tracy One."

"What about the tracker, Dad?" Alan frowned.

"By the time you land, Penelope will be there. Parker will be able to fit the tracker in an inconspicuous place," Jeff nodded and sighed. "Then we'll hand the jet over to the…" he hesitated, trying to find an appropriate description without letting his heart rule his tongue. "To the men down there."

"Dad? What about me?" Jeff met Gordon's tense expression. His wide eyed determination that he should be going with his younger brother was discernible. "Scott might need more help, I might be needed." Gordon continued, an air of desperation hung around him. Jeff wondered if he could stop him, even if he said no. He could empathise with both his youngest sons. He longed to be able to drop everything and head out to Wales to be there, too. But he knew he had to have faith in his sons' abilities, despite the anxiety and fear he felt.

"Okay, Gordon," he nodded under a solemn expression. "Go with your brother." They needed no more encouragement and moved for the lift within seconds.

Tin-Tin watched them both stomp off together before scurrying after them. Seeing them march towards the lift, made her realise that she actually pitied the men behind all this. Scott and Virgil were a force to be reckoned with and always had been, but if there was one thing she'd learned about the Tracy family, it was that they were loyal. Loyal to each other and loyal to their friends. When the worst happened they tended to close rank, pulling together to combat anyone who threatened them. As she felt Gordon pull her into the lift and close the safety bar, she hoped with all her heart that Virgil was okay. Deep down though, she knew that even if they hadn't laid a finger on Thunderbird Two's pilot, the threat that they would was enough to enrage the others and ignite that fierce loyalty they all felt.

Gordon and Alan's urgent discussion went over her head as they reached the floor of Thunderbird Two's hangar. It seemed so strange to be down here when the gigantic transporter wasn't present, the hangar seemed so empty without her looming presence. It sent a chill up Tin-Tin's spine. Shaking herself and pushing the feeling to one side, she concentrated on what Alan and Gordon were discussing

In the Lounge, Jeff's head snapped up as Brains came in at a run. "M-M-M-Mr…" he stumbled out, too agitated to be coherent.

"What is it Brains?" Jeff asked, an anxious frown forming as he studied the flushed scientist.

"Mr T-Tracy," Brains addressed him. "I've been err c-considering the err Mole's o-oxygen parameters, like you err re-requested and I think we may have a err p-problem." Behind his signature blue rimmed glasses, the engineer's restless eyes gave it all away.

"Go on, Brains," Jeff's jaw clenched and his expression became hard. He gestured to the sofa in front of his desk and Brains sat down.

"Well, the err M-Mole isn't fitted with the s-same zyolithic crystals that T-Thunderbird Four has." Brains stated, "It does err h-have o-oxygen tanks but it's not quite the same th-thing. You see the oxygen tanks will pump err o-oxygen into the cabin. But without the zyolithic c-crystals there's only the re-recycler to prevent a err build up off c-c-carbon dioxide. After a while, the recycler will err st-start pumping the carbon di-dioxide b-back into the c-cabin."

"What are you saying, Brains?" Jeff frowned. "You estimated they had twenty two hours hour left, are you saying they don't have that long now?"

Brains shuffled in his seat uncomfortably, "The a-air tanks will work alongside the err recycling plant, to take carbon dioxide out of the c-cabin and replace it with err o-oxygen, but only for a-as long as the recycler is err working. I'm concerned that the recycling plant might not be able to s-stand the p-pressure of constant use." He glanced up at Jeff Tracy's stern expression, "Now, the shielded nuclear fusion reactor, in theory, sh-should be capable of powering it but the err pl-plant is run off the same electric generators that err p-power the drill bit and thrusters."

"So you're saying that by overusing the recycling plant, we're running the risk that the electric generator might not be able to stand the pressure." Jeff let out a heavy sigh, "What then Brains?"

"The err motor on the recycling plant is el-electric, it could b-burn out, I'm afraid. If the motor f-fails, then the err thrusters and drill bit, would also become inoperative," Brains shook his head sadly, "If that happened, Virgil would be err w-well and truly t-trapped."

"Damn!" Jeff exclaimed, "We'd better get on to Scott, he's based his whole operation on the time scale we calculated earlier. This changes everything." He couldn't help the accusing tone in his voice.

"I'm err s-sorry Mr Tracy, I err just did a q-quick calculation earlier. It's only now I've g-gone back to it, after helping Alan and Gordon that I uhh r-realised." Brains apologised profusely, he felt more than a little guilty. He'd done quick calculations earlier before Alan and Gordon had needed his help in adapting the tracking device.

Jeff sighed, as he reached for his desk controls to open a line through to Mobile Control. "It's not your fault, Brains, our resources have been stretched on this one. I didn't mean to snap," Jeff nodded, watching the engineer bow his head. The stress was really starting to get to him and the last person he meant to take it out on was Brains. He felt like he should apologise properly, but the words just wouldn't come. He watched Brains nod and slip out of the room. But there was no time for apologies; he took a few minutes to control himself before putting in a call to his eldest son.

XxxxX

"John," Virgil's voice came through the radio, but it was too faint to seize John's attention. The blond astronaut was currently pouring over information coming from a console on the other side of the bridge. He was shaking his head at what the computer was telling him, deep in thought.

"John," the whispered word came again, barely audible through the speakers and John continued where he was. "John if you can hear me, they're all asleep, I'm going to try something…"

John sighed and rubbed a hand over his head. The situation was becoming ever more dire by the second. Brains' discovery about the generator had them all working relentlessly to find a resolution. John knew that he wasn't the only member of International Rescue who was feeling the turmoil inside as he worked. He wandered over to the transparent window that overlooked the planet below and studied the Earth from the distance. It never ceased to take his breath away and put things in perspective, thus helping him to concentrate on what he needed to do. He allowed himself a few minutes to stare out at the great abyss, feeling its calming influence on him. Turning back to the consoles in front of him, he looked down at his clipboard and shook his head yet again.

It was then he noticed the message recorder had been triggered. Hastily approaching it, he played the tape back but couldn't make it out. It took him a few seconds, and lots of computer modifications, to be able to play the recording properly.

"John," John's heart sank when he realised he'd missed Virgil's contact. It was so quiet. "John," Virgil's voice came through again and John swallowed back his emotional response. "John, if you can hear me, they're all asleep, I'm going to try something…"

"No!" John shook his head, automatically responding as if Virgil were on the line right there and then. "No, Virg," he muttered as his hands went to call his brother, "don't do that." He stopped himself, the last thing he wanted was to alert Virgil's captors to the fact that he was in contact with them. Instead of opening a channel, he took the time to code his reply.

Code five was their most frequently adopted secret language. It was a favourite of Penelope's but Brains had converted it to be used as a series of vibrations as well as movements. And it had the added benefit that it was unique to International Rescue, no-one else knew what it stood for.

John worked on composing his message before going about sending it.

XxxxX

A small and innocuous click echoed against the constant whirring of the life support facilities around them.

No loud bang.

No arm wrenching recoil.

And no sound of impact.

Virgil opened his eyes, not believing what his senses were telling him. He pulled the trigger again, but got the same result. Slowly, his mind attempted to process the events of the last few seconds. Their guns were well developed and not like any gun he'd ever handled before. He couldn't understand why it wouldn't work. Frowning, he looked up at Billy, who was still standing there with a wide grin on his face and not a trace of fear in his eyes.

"What did I tell you?" Billy was crowing, "I said he couldn't be trusted. He could've killed me!"

Virgil became aware that Jake was now stood to his right. He swallowed in apprehension, knowing exactly what kind of response he'd get from him. Movement behind Billy caught Virgil's eye and he saw Luke had come to stand in the gap between the two seats, too.

"I'm sorry," Luke shook his head as he held his hand out. Virgil wasn't sure whether he was apologising to the other two, or to him. Befuddled, he watched as Luke prised his fingers open and several heavy, silver bullets dropped to the floor and scattered. "I trusted you," he frowned at Virgil, raising his voice in anger over the tinny thuds the bullets made as they hit the metal floor. Virgil felt guilty at the disappointment the young man felt but could only frown at the illogicality of it all. He swallowed and met Luke's gaze, hopeful that he was conveying his remorse as much as his confusion.

"Well, well, well," Jake was shaking his head. He reached a hand out to the gun Virgil held and retrieved it without incident. Virgil was too shell shocked to resist and it wasn't like it was any use to him now. "What did I tell you, Luke? You're too soft. Good job I didn't listen to you, eh?" He turned to face his fellow kidnapper and gave him a malicious smile, before grinning back at Virgil. His tone became menacing and dangerously low. "Billy, go and find some rope." He gave a nod, indicating to the storeroom.

Virgil knew there would be plenty of rope out there; it was only a matter of time before Billy came back with some. He turned his attention to where Jake had begun to pace, he was shaking his head but appeared surprisingly calm.

"I thought we were treating you quite well," Jake pondered. "Obviously not well enough! What were you going to do? Did you have a plan?"

Virgil swallowed, but remained silent. He didn't want to ignite Jake's temper even further, so he just hung his head and tried to ready himself for what was coming. His heart was pounding in his chest and it was all he could do to stop himself showing the panic he felt. The tingling sensation of fear at the base of his spine began again and hiding his emotions was even more difficult. With a hard resolve, he tried to appear indifferent.

"Don't ignore me!" Jake voice boomed forth as he pushed his face in front of Virgil's. "Answer me!"

Virgil tried to stop himself from jumping at the shout, and only just succeeded. Luckily, or unluckily depending on how you looked at things, Billy came back into the room. Virgil's heart fell at the length of rope he carried in one hand but at the same time, he served as a welcome distraction from Jake's angry outburst.

"Tie his hands," Jake ordered as soon as Billy closed the door behind him. He nodded and obliged, taking Virgil's wrists and pulling them behind his back. Virgil felt a rising fear inside, he knew with his arms bound behind his back that there was no way he could defend himself; he also knew that was probably the reason behind it. He didn't give either of them the satisfaction of seeing his fright but he couldn't hold back a grimace as Billy pulled the rope tight around his wrists. His defiance wasn't doing him any favours and every time he tried to pull away, the rope just tightened, digging in to his wrists.

Unfortunately, Virgil's wristwatch vibrated as Billy was tightening the bonds. His heart plummeted right down to his boots as he realised John's delayed response to his message would make things ten times worse.

With a startled yelp, Billy jumped away.

"What?" Jake asked sharply. His temper already ignited, it was evident he was in no mood for fooling around.

"His watch!" Billy explained. "It… it vibrated," surprised at the occurrence, he raised wide eyes to his leader.

"Vibrated?" Jake growled. "We don't have time for games, Billy. Cut it out!"

"No, no. I'm serious!" Billy was insistent, he pointed at the object behind Virgil's back. "Look, it's doing it again."

Virgil closed his eyes and sighed, letting his head drop until his chin almost touched his chest. If Jake was angry before, he would be furious now. Virgil awaited the punishment he knew would be coming his way with trepidation, periodically reminding himself that they couldn't do too much damage if they ever wanted to surface again. However, Jake's words earlier came back to haunt him, what did they have to look forward to by surfacing?

"Take it off and give it to me."

Virgil swallowed and squeezed his eyes shut as he felt the item being removed. He raised his head slightly to see Jake as he turned the watch over in his hands, seeming to be puzzled by the timekeeping contraption. "What is it?" he asked facing Virgil and waving the watch in his face. "Is it some kind of listening device?"

Virgil didn't answer. Instead, he focused on a spot of mud on the floor. He remembered Scott and Gordon telling him once about the survival training they'd both undergone; focus on a spot on the wall and let your mind drift, that's what they'd been taught. Well, focusing on the wall would mean looking up at Jake so Virgil decided on the spot on the floor instead.

His plan soon fell foul when Jake's hand closed round his chin, jerking his head up with some force. Jake's grip was so powerful that he pinched Virgil's cheeks together tightly, so tightly that the pilot could hardly breathe.

"I've already told you once," Jake's fiery eyes told him. "I'm not telling you again. Answer me!"

The fire in Jake's eyes was growing. The anger burned so bright that Virgil could practically feel the heat and his silence was just adding fuel to the inferno. He was relieved when Jake let go of his face and he forced air into his lungs, desperate to regain his steady breathing. His composure was tested as Jake dropped the watch to the floor and stamped on it, Virgil winced as the abuse caused the face to shatter. Brains had built the watches to withstand everyday knocks and bangs and on the whole Virgil had always found them very robust. It was becoming obvious, however, that the more Jake stamped on the device the more it fell apart.

Satisfied that the watch was destroyed, Jake leant forward. "If you won't answer us, we'll have to teach you the hard way. I don't like being ignored." Jake gave a brisk nod to Billy and Virgil was aware of the blond taking a grip of his arms, holding him still in preparation.

Virgil tried to ready himself for whatever was coming his way. Every muscle in his body became rigid as he tried to resist Billy's hold. His jaw was tense when Jake's fist connected with it. Head snapping to his right, he felt every muscle in his neck straining against the sudden movement.

"This could have worked so well," Jake was shouting angrily. "If you'd just …" he paused, becoming breathless at the exertion of repeatedly punctuating his words by throwing punches in Virgil's direction. "Done as we said…" he gritted his teeth. "There was no need for you to get hurt…" he came to a stop. His fists fell to his side momentarily, as he gave himself time to catch breath. His noisy panting was only a little louder than Virgil's involuntary groaning at the pain he'd inflicted.

Virgil felt the blood trickling from his nose and the iron taste that filled his mouth. Facial movement only caused him pain, but he managed to spit out the accumulated fluid and hold his head high. The cabin spun around him and he wasn't entirely sure whether he was still standing up straight. He barely had time to consider it as Jake's pause to recoup his energy was only a temporary one.

XxxxX

Scott sat back down at his Mobile Control console with a heavy sigh and yet another glance at his watch. Time was slowly ticking away and he was beginning to feel the pressure. He knew it was essential that they had everything in place before the deadline the hostage takers had given them and he was now worried that the air recycler wouldn't hold up to the strain. Brain's revelation had certainly added to an already tenser than tense situation. Not wanting to deliberate over the possibilities, Scott moved to contact John.

"Mobile Control calling Thunderbird Five," he leant forward in his chair, shuffling to get comfortable. When he didn't receive a response immediately, he raised the microphone and tried again, "Thunderbird Five, do you copy?"

"Scott," John's reply bypassed the procedural response and Scott's heart immediately skipped several beats.

"Jesus, John!" Scott exclaimed. "You look like you've seen a ghost. What is it? Is it the motor? Has it stopped?" The questions fired out in the direction of his bewildered brother before even Scott himself, had time to process them.

John swallowed and rubbed a hand over his face, "It's all my fault, Scott, I'm so sorry," he shook his head.

"John, what is it?" Scott's distress was evident through his wide eyed expression and his deep frown. "Tell me!" he urged, with feeling.

John took a deep breath and tried to pull himself together at his brother's desperate tone. "It's Virgil," he swallowed again. "He called me, said he was going to try something because they were all asleep." He saw Scott, bare his gritted teeth in frustration. "I tried to stop him, I was telling him it wasn't a good idea," John gabbled. "I was trying to get him to sit tight, just like you said." He paused and Scott waiting patiently for him to continue, knowing that he wouldn't like the bombshell his astronaut brother was about to drop. "I was in such a rush to send him a message back that it wasn't until after I'd sent it that I realized they'd caught him."

"Oh God, the idiot!" Scott growled, shaking his head in frustration. "I knew something like this would happen!" he cursed.

"There's more," John said timidly. Scott looked up to him, his head snapping up in one sharp movement. He continued, "He received the message I sent back just as one of them was tying his hands behind his back."

Scott swallowed, "So what? Do they know about the watch? Do they know we've been listening?"

John could only nod in silence.

"I've been trying to get a response from his watch," he said after a slight pause, desperate for some kind of absolution. "It's not functioning properly so I'm guessing they've damaged it. I can't get any visual feed, I'm picking up sound but I have to amplify it to be able to hear it. It's really faint."

"Do you have sound now?" Scott licked his lips and studied his brother. John was withholding information, that much was obvious but for Scott, his apparent reluctance to divulge the information was more disturbing. "Come on, John, what is it you're not telling me? Is Virgil okay?"

"Not exactly," John looked away. Unable to watch Scott's response even if he'd needed to. He paused for a few moments, allowing both himself and Scott precious seconds to get a grip. "He's err… well, they… they're kicking the hell out of him, Scott."

Scott's eyes hardened and the anxiousness they'd contained at hearing John's news suddenly faded to somewhere deep in his heart. "Patch me through, John."

John knew it was an order and that he didn't have a choice, but even he was finding it difficult to listen to the transmission. Though he knew there was no stopping Scott when he was this determined, for Scott's own sake he had to try. "Scott, please, you don't need to hear it."

"I said patch me through," Scott repeated in a voice far calmer than John had expected. He was tempted to try again to dissuade his brother, but Scott commented further, "Now, John." Those two words just proved that Scott had a very tight hold on his emotions and that he was struggling for control. John could only give a small nod and make the connection.

It wasn't long before the sounds emitted from Mobile Control's speakers were, as John predicted, making Scott's skin, quite literally, crawl. A myriad of grunts and groans pierced the silence the brothers found themselves in. A silence divided only by either incomprehensible, angry shouting or breathless coughing and spluttering. It didn't take a genius to recognise Virgil's laboured attempts at some kind of survival over the speakers. Scott swallowed hard, his mouth was suddenly dry and the simple action felt raw. He realised that his fists were clenched so tight in front of him that his knuckles were white. Opening his mouth to speak he was relieved when a new voice entered the mix.

"Jake, that's enough. You've made your point!" A pause followed, before the same voice spoke again. "Cut it out, you're going to kill him!" There was the sound of a scuffle, before the peacemaker got an abrupt reply.

"I haven't even started yet!"

"We need him to get back to the surface!" The argument continued.

"I've told you already," a different voice replied. "We don't have anywhere to go. I'd rather die than go back inside. Thanks to him," there was another short pause and the sound what Scott assumed was Virgil receiving another blow, "they know everything." There was a bout of interference and for a few seconds it was difficult to understand what was happening. A loud crash followed and then nothing but static.

"J…" Scott disguised his trembling voice with a sudden sharp cough. "John?" he asked, shrugging his shoulders and indicating he wanted some kind of explanation for the loss of feed.

"I don't know," John frowned back. "I err… I don't know, there's nothing from the watch. Maybe they destroyed it completely. The feed wasn't all that great before, I doubt it would take much." He paused, "I'm so sorry, Scott, I should never have sent that message. If only I'd checked first or…"

"John…" Scott sighed. "It's not your fault," he said, his tone sincere. "Virgil took a risk and it didn't work out. He's under a lot of pressure right now, we all are. This isn't your fault, John," he reiterated. "It might've happened anyway, we're never going to know." John nodded automatically but his heart wasn't really in it and Scott could feel the guilt pouring off him in waves. "John, listen to me…" Scott tried once more to offer some kind of comfort.

"Yeah, I'm listening, we don't have time for this now." John swallowed. "I'm going to check on Gordon and Alan. They should be leaving Dublin any time." He avoided the issue, with more blatancy than Scott had expected. "I'll let you know what's going on. Are you going to call Father or do you want me to do it?"

Scott hesitated. He pondered reinitiating their previous conversation but decided against it and settled for playing John's game of charades. They were times when he had to rely on John not to rumble his own façade and he didn't want to jeopardise that. "I'll call Dad. You let me know about Gordon and Alan. Parker's working on that tracker now."

John signed off quickly with a terse, "FAB."

Scott let out a heavy sigh and slumped over the console in front of him. His head fell to his hands and he rubbed at his eyes, attempting to massage the tension away but failing. More than aware of the implications of this situation, Scott knew that this latest twist could make all the difference and he couldn't help but wonder how Virgil was holding up after what he'd just heard. He knew his brother as well anyone, better in fact. People commented on how their personalities complimented each other because they were so different and yet so similar, but that wasn't the complete picture. They had a lot in common and as much as Virgil had his mother's looks and gifts, he had his father's stubbornness too, and a sense of pride that rivalled Scott's.

Scott was startled by a hand suddenly clasping his shoulder and looked up find Penelope, staring at him with a probing expression. She awaited an answer to a question Scott hadn't even heard. "Sorry, Penny," Scott apologised, shrugging her hand away. "I was miles away. What did you say?"

"I was just informing you that the tracker is ready and that we are now awaiting the plane's arrival to install it," she studied Scott closely. To her trained eye, he looked pale and if she wasn't mistaken, his hands were also trembling. "Are you quite alright, Scott?" she frowned.

"Hmm?" he asked her distracted by his thoughts once more. The response only caused Penelope's frown to deepen. "Oh yeah, I'm fine thanks, Penelope." He turned to look up at her and recognised the concern in her eyes.

Penelope glanced at her watch and delicately lifted a finger to her eyelid to rub the carefully curled lashes a little. "You must be tired, why don't you try to sleep?" she suggested. "You look exhausted, Scott, and I'm sure John will wake you if there's any change in the situation."

"Me?" Scott shook his head. "No, I'm okay, Penny. I really don't feel that tired. Besides, someone needs to check that Cook isn't going off on a tangent."

Penelope took an uncharacteristic pose and leaned slightly against the nearest control console, "You trust him, don't you?"

Scott didn't hesitate when he nodded; after all, he'd already been quizzed about putting his faith in Ned Cook. "Yeah I do, after what happened in New York, he's never done anything but support us and he went out of his way to tell us everything he knew about this place."

Penelope nodded but recognised that it was a well rehearsed speech. She didn't doubt that Scott would already have defended his decision to his father and probably his brothers too, though she doubted the latter would ask outright. "Hmm," Penelope muttered. "I suppose you are right. He was conspicuously quiet when Eddie Kerr was exposing us all as criminal masterminds," she grinned a little but Scott didn't return it.

"Exactly," Scott exclaimed, he sighed running a hand over his face. "Cook will do the right thing; he's learned his lesson the hard way. I just hope they get the article finished in time."

"What is the procedure when the article is complete?" Penelope asked. "Do they require it in a specific format?"

Scott nodded, "Yeah, but I'm going to send it to Brains and Tin-Tin. They should be able to make it look like it's a news report." Slowly, he pushed himself to his feet and threw a weak smile in Penelope's direction. "I should go and check how they're getting on with it. Get some sleep, Penelope," he advised.

She nodded in silence and watched as he slumped away into the darkness. Shoulders hunched and his head dropped, Scott was more than aware that the situation was only worsening.

XxxxX

Virgil awoke to a stinging sensation causing his left cheek to smart. With a groan and an instinctive jerk, he tried to roll away from the pain only to move backwards onto his bound wrists. He opened his mouth to let out another moan when he felt someone's hand clamp over his lips. Eyes popping open in surprise and horror at the perceived threat, he began to struggle against his silencer.

"Shh! Calm down!" The voice just caused Virgil to struggle harder, rebelling against the hand that was pushing his head back towards the floor. "Shh!" Luke's head came into view. The image blurred for a while before Virgil focused on the face above him and it came together. Virgil was met with anxious yet piercing blue eyes, inches from his face. "I'm not trying to hurt you but you've got to be quiet," Luke told him.

Virgil attempted a nod, but hoped their eye contact portrayed his agreement; the nod wasn't all that successful. Slowly and very apprehensively, Luke moved his hand away from Virgil's mouth and relaxed a little. Virgil, meanwhile, let out the breath he hadn't realised he was holding and tried to piece together his recollections. His attempt to reconstruct his memory was short lived as Luke brought a hand up to his face and he sucked a breath in, flinching away instinctively at what he thought was more punishment.

"I'm sorry," Luke whispered as he cleaned the cuts to Virgil's face. He seemed a little disappointed at Virgil's reaction. "I know this is a bit sore," he hesitated as he watched his patient wince again. "It needs cleaning though," Luke said. He turned to one side and applied some antiseptic to the cotton wool he used. As Virgil followed his gaze, he realised that the first aid kit was laid out in front of them and that Luke had been methodically treating the cuts and bruises on his face.

He was confused.

After the savage attack he'd just been exposed to, he couldn't help but be suspicious at the youngest of his captors' behaviour.

"It's nearly done now," Luke's tone was hushed, but loud enough to break Virgil's critical thoughts. Glancing across to the two bench seats, Virgil spied the other two fast asleep. Jake's hand had fallen out from under the blanket, revealing scuffed knuckles and Virgil felt a degree of satisfaction when he noticed that his eye had darkened a little as a result of one of the few punches Virgil managed to get in when this whole thing had started.

Hissing and flinching again as Luke turned his attention to another raw area, Virgil found himself thinking suspiciously about Luke's motives. He swallowed but found his mouth unbearably dry and shifted from the uncomfortable position he'd been left in. He'd assumed that the cool pressure against his back was the floor but as he moved he realised it was his hand. The length of his arm was numb where he'd been laid on it and he tried to move to let the circulation flow again. "W-Why are you doing this?" he managed to rasp out as he frowned up at Luke in confusion.

"Jake's already told you why," Luke replied. Sitting back, he looked over Virgil's face and nodded in satisfaction at his work. "We need to get away from here, you know what they've been doing to us." He replaced everything in the first aid box and pushed it away. There was an awkward silence as Virgil shifted again. The sensation of pins and needles in his arm was becoming uncomfortable. He tried to flex his fingers a little but they were still too numb and instead his muscles spasmed, causing a shooting pain deep in his arm.

"Do you believe us?" Luke asked hesitantly as he propped himself up against one of the consoles and stretched his legs out in front of him. He watched Virgil as he fidgeted, sore from being laid on his side but unable to move without causing further pain.

Virgil faltered. He wasn't sure what he believed anymore. "Yeah," he replied after a while and with a small nod. "Yeah, I do believe you." Luke responded with a brief smile and his eyes lit up. The blue sparkle reminded Virgil of his brother, John, and he realised that their eyes had the same depth of feeling. "But that's not what I meant. I meant, why are you helping me?" There was a small voice inside of him telling him that he was being paranoid but he couldn't help wonder if this was some kind of trap. Maybe Luke's kindness was faked and that he was supposed to fall into this false sense of security. If he could feel such a thing, given the situation.

Luke shrugged, "Well if you'd rather I didn't…" He took offence at Virgil's persistent questioning.

"No," Virgil shook his head. "No, that's not what I meant either. It's just…" he trailed off, taking the time to choose his words carefully. "It doesn't matter," he shook his head, unsure how to vocalise his thoughts without sounding ungrateful.

"You're surprised that I'm cleaning your face up after what Jake's just done." Luke seemed to understand Virgil's confusion and nodded. "I'm just doing what I'm told. They don't want you looking a mess for tomorrow, when you talk to your mate up there." He turned his eyes skyward.

Virgil nodded in understanding. He knew there had to be a reason. He couldn't help but feel a little disappointed though, he'd hoped that Luke was sympathising with him. He knew random acts of kindness weren't in keeping with any of their characters but then again, Luke seemed different, more compassionate than the others. He hadn't been as aggressive as the other two and he'd seemed uncomfortable, at times, with their actions. "Well thanks, anyway," Virgil smiled. He winced when he felt the action pull against bruised muscles and let it drop.

"Don't thank me, I told you I'm just doing what I was told." Luke shook his head. "It's us that should be thanking you. Without you, we'd be dead by now. You saved our lives." He silently thought to himself about the manner they were all repaying Virgil, but forced his tongue to remain silent. "I suppose you wish you hadn't bothered now," he assumed. "I wouldn't blame you."

Virgil shook his head, but his surroundings swam in front of him and he stopped, pausing for a few minutes to allow it to settle. "No, I just wish there'd been another way for you to prove your point."

"Me too," Luke sighed.

With a certain amount of caution, Virgil looked up to him and realised how much he meant those words. Both of them turned to face the bench seats when Jake moved about in his sleep but he settled and they relaxed. Virgil noted the tension that the thought of Jake waking had caused in Luke.

"You don't seem all that close to him," Virgil said. He was trying to keep the conversation going. If nothing else, it was taking his mind off what was happening around them but he knew he had to play it carefully. Luke might not have been as threatening or intimidating as Jake but he'd already proved where his loyalties lay. Virgil knew he had to be sparing with what he told the young man.

In the silence that followed the comment, Virgil wondered if he'd said the wrong thing. He breathed a sigh of relief when Luke responded, "I'm not. Not really. Put it this way: they're not the two people I'd pick to be trapped with. It's not as if all this is premeditated or anything, I mean it was never a trap for you." He paused, "I've met people who have tried to get at you guys and your technology but we're not interested in any of that. We just want to get away from here. This place changes you. Billy's a good guy really he just got mixed up with the wrong crowd."

Virgil tried to swallow again, "And what about you?"

"Am I a good guy?" Luke asked with a frown. "No," he shook his head. "Definitely not. I'm a criminal, just like they are," he gestured to the other two asleep on the bench seats but kept his voice low.

"Really?" Virgil tried to raise an eyebrow but gave up after several failed attempts. "I don't think you're like them. You've never hurt me, you were never violent or aggressive like they were and you never joined in with them, when they were…" he trailed off, not wanting to think about it.

"I threatened you," Luke smirked back, surprised by Virgil's acuity.

"And if it hadn't been for you stopping him, Jake would have killed me," Virgil replied.

"Okay," Luke shrugged, "So I don't want you to die yet. Have you thought that maybe I'm just selfish enough to want you alive so that you can get us to the surface? I don't want to die either, no matter what Jake says."

Virgil shook his head, being more careful this time, "No," he muttered. "I saw the look on your face when they were laying in to me. It didn't sit too well with you. You disapproved, I know you did."

"You're wrong," Luke replied his tone clipped and adamant. "I've handed out more than my fair share of beatings in the past. Believe me, that was nothing. I'm no angel and I've done worse." Virgil considered the opening to ask Luke what he meant by that but decided not to push it. "I'm telling you, you're wrong. I don't care about you. I just want to see my family again."

"You care enough to be talking to me now," Virgil observed. He shifted once more, feeling the numbness in his arms slowly fade. He flexed his fingers again, pleased when they complied.

Luke scoffed, "You really only see the best in people don't you?" He paused, "I'm a criminal, a liar, a dangerous liar. I can't be trusted out in society," he leant forward, trying to keep his voice low. "Do you know what I was sent down for? What I did to get me locked up in here?"

Virgil shook his head, unsure whether he really wanted to know either. He'd like to think he wasn't prejudiced and that it wouldn't change his hopes that Luke could help him, but deep down he know that no one could ever be impartial. Moreover, he considered that maybe he was grasping on to the one scrap of faith he had left; that Luke was some kind of saviour.

"I killed someone," Luke told him, his head bowed. Virgil cringed but tried hard not to let it show. "I took a life and I'm not sorry I did it either," he said as he looked Virgil in the eye with a harsh, cold expression. "What?" he asked, his tone insolent. "You didn't think I was capable?" He shook his head, "No, neither did the guy I killed."

Virgil watched him wide eyed as Luke became pensive and looked around their surroundings deep in thought. His expression became sad and reflective, and Virgil wondered how much of his unrepentant attitude was just an act. He wasn't naïve and he knew it was a tough life in a prison.

The pensive silence went on.

Virgil was about to break it but Luke suddenly shook himself, "I suppose you think I'm some kind of monster now." He looked across at Virgil in expectation of some kind of reply, "You know it's kind of ironic when you think about it. You saving lives and us taking them." Virgil gave a nervous smirk and Luke laughed.

Virgil watched him as he sobered. It was hot and unpleasant now; the air was heavy, stifling their attempts at breathing and making it a real effort. Virgil swallowed against the clammy, oppressive heat but only coughed and spluttered when the hot air hit the back of his throat. The sudden movement to his chest caused his damaged ribs to ache and he groaned, rolling further forward onto his front. The action only caused the dull throbbing to increase and he screwed his face up.

"Shh!" Luke sat forward, trying to hold Virgil down as he moved. "Be quiet, we can't wake them," he frowned as Virgil struggled to breathe. His mouth was so dry, it felt prickly. Luke realised the problem and reached above his head to the bottle of water on the console. "Here, drink some of this," he directed as he uncapped the bottle. Placing a hand under Virgil's head, he lifted the water to his lips and let him drink. Eager to quench his unbearable thirst and soothe the arid sensation in his mouth and throat, Virgil gulped down the liquid as quickly as he could.

"Go easy," Luke told him, pulling the bottle away. His haste to move the bottle away left trickles of water running down Virgil's chin, with no hands to wipe it away he could only lick his lips in an attempt to savour every last drop. "It's all I've got left." At the sound of the voice above him, Virgil remembered that Luke was watching him. He suddenly felt ashamed that he'd let his captor witness the desperation he felt to quench his thirst.

Virgil could feel the cool of the remaining water against his skin, and the humidity in the cabin just amplified it. He closed his eyes and was surprised when Luke moved forward and wiped his chin clean. "Is there a tap in that toilet? I could go and fill it up," Luke suggested.

"No," Virgil replied. "It's not drinking water. It's got cleaning chemicals in it."

"I'm sorry," Luke apologised again, gesturing to the now empty bottle.

"Yeah," Virgil looked across at him, "and that's why you're different. Do you think they're sorry?" He gestured to the two sleeping criminals. "Do you think they even care if I'm dehydrated?"

Luke shook his head after a few moments of thought, "You have to understand that these last three years have been hell for us. I'd do anything to see my family again and I mean anything, Virgil. That's the only reason I'm here."

"Billy said you had a kid?" Virgil asked. He spoke with caution, not wanting to push too far. Rather than being angry or hostile at the subject Luke sat back, smiled sadly and nodded. "I thought they checked for that kind of thing before they brought you here," the first comment may not have caused an antagonistic reaction, but the second certainly did.

Luke frowned and turned angry eyes in Virgil's direction, "It's complicated." His tone of voice suggested that the conversation was over, and Virgil began to feel guilty for even approaching the subject.

"I don't have any kids," Virgil spoke only to fill the silence but he was thoughtful about how differently things could have turned out. "Guess I never met the right person, not at the right time anyway. It's difficult with this kind of work. It wouldn't be fair of me to have started a family and then subjected them to this kind of lifestyle." He pondered about what it would have been like. To feel the pride only a parent can, for something so tiny and vulnerable to rely on you completely. He remembered what his youngest brothers were like when they were babies but he couldn't help wondering what it would be like to be a father. Some of his friends outside of International Rescue had children.

"You're not married?" Luke asked. He seemed surprised.

Virgil shook his head, "No." He paused, deep in reflection, "I have four brothers though. They're the only family I need." He tried to remind himself of that and not let his mind consider the decisions he'd made in the past. Girlfriends that could have been more than girlfriends but the timing was never right, there was always something there to get in the way.

"Not even anyone special?" Luke persisted.

Virgil shook his head, taking care to avoid another twinge of pain, "My brothers are all pretty special."

"You're close?" Luke asked. When Virgil gave a brief nod, he smiled. "I was close to my brother too. He was my best friend. People said we were like twins," he laughed to himself. "I idolised him when I was a child. Used to follow him around like a lost sheep," he grinned, looking up to find Virgil smiling wistfully too. "Are you the eldest?"

"Second," Virgil told him. "I was the same with …" he stopped himself, "my older brother. Used to follow him around all the time, I think he hated me as a kid." Realising that he'd almost let his guard drop, he forced himself into a more vigilant state of mind. "What about you? Are you the eldest?"

"No," Luke smiled as he shook his head and then stopped, leaving an abrupt silence hanging in the air. "Well, yeah, I am now. My older brother was … well, he…. he was killed," he informed Virgil through gritted death, his tone of voice angry.

"Oh," Virgil let out a small sigh. "I'm sorry," he said, head bowed. Though he felt it was a lame response, he wasn't sure what else to say at the irate tone. He began to wonder if perhaps Luke had killed his brother but disregarded the thought; he was letting the confinement manipulate his mind.

Luke shook his head, anger clearly simmering just below the surface, "The guy that did it, he got what was coming." His eyes took on a far off look and he recounted the tale without emotion, almost forgetting Virgil was there at all. "I killed him," he confessed suddenly, meeting Virgil's gaze and holding it steady, portraying his fury and a mixture of other emotions Virgil couldn't quite comprehend. "I killed him for taking Ben away from me," Luke swallowed and blinked. "And I'm not sorry I did it either," he admitted, repeating his earlier words, completely unashamed.

Virgil's eyes darted about in apprehension, uncertain where to look. "What…" he trailed off, not sure whether to ask, not even sure he wanted the answer. "What happened?" he couldn't help himself and put it down to morbid fascination.

"He wouldn't tell us where Ben's body was," Luke bowed his head further and frowned hard. He began to fiddle with his fingers and shuffle about, needing to explain, "I just wanted a chance to say goodbye. I wanted to bury my brother, give him the send off he deserved. He was a good man. Ten times the man I could ever be." He looked up to gauge Virgil's reaction. He was listening with rapt attention. "He wouldn't tell me. I never meant to hurt him, not really. I just wanted to scare him into telling me. I needed to know," Luke sighed. "But I don't regret it, I'd do it again. Can you understand that?"

Virgil frowned a little, completely unsure how to react and how he was expected to respond to that revelation. "I can't imagine what I'd do if I lost one of my brothers." He tried to visualise what it'd be like to be told that one of his brothers had died but found himself unwilling. The very concept was unthinkable and brought horrible reminders of Gordon's accident.

A pensive silence settled around them again, neither knowing what to say.

"They promised me that you wouldn't get hurt," Luke broke the silence and changed the subject, his unspoken apology was heartfelt. "If you'd just gone along with what they'd told you…" he trailed off and shook his head in frustration.

"But I had to do something," Virgil tried to explain. "I couldn't just sit back and let you use the organization as a bargaining tool."

Luke understood but ignored the urge to feel any sympathy, "The watch was some kind of communications device, wasn't it?" Virgil's nod was almost imperceptible. He was still unsure about Luke's true intentions and watched the young man's reaction to the news with caution. "I knew it. I've been trying to convince myself it was some kind of alarm or maybe even, y'know how some watches bleep on the hour? I thought, well, hoped…" Luke realised he was babbling and sighed. "Deep down, I knew though. Why?" he asked. "Why put yourself in danger like that? Were they listening all this time?"

"It doesn't matter," Virgil told him. "They're still going along with your plan. They just wanted to make sure that I was safe, that's all." His mind wandered as to how much John would have heard. The thought that his brother, or worse brothers, could have heard the feed devastated him. It was humiliating to think they could have been listening to his helplessness all along. "Where is it now?"

Luke gestured over towards the storeroom door. "Jake threw it over there. I don't think there's much left of it anyway." He paused and heaved a sigh. "God, it's hot in here," he groaned as he swiped a hand over his brow.

"The oxygen's running low," Virgil commented. "What time is it, how long do we have left?"

Luke glanced at his watch and did a few quick calculations, "According to what you said, we've got at least another five … nearly six hours left," his tone became accusing.

Virgil frowned, assuming he must've been unconscious longer than he'd anticipated. "Carbon dioxide's beginning to build up in the cabin." He said with confidence, "We need to surface." There was no room for negotiation.

Luke sighed, "Jake won't do it. Not until we've got what we want, he wasn't bluffing when he said he'd rather die down here."

Virgil nodded his head, his expression a cross somewhere between grim and sad. He'd already guessed as much. If nothing else, he knew these guys were serious. "There are oxygen tanks in that storeroom," he gestured to the door at the back of the cabin. "If it gets really bad we could use them, but only as a last resort." Luke nodded. He accepted that their fate was now in International Rescue's hands. Virgil however, felt he should be doing more. "Can I ask you something?" When Luke nodded, he took a breath and went on, "How did you get the bullets out of my gun?" He shook his head in wonder, "Those weapons are pretty advanced. I don't understand how you knew."

Luke shrugged, "I didn't. Billy did. He was in the Navy so he's got a bit of experience with guns, he was playing about with it this afternoon. I told him we didn't need it, that you wouldn't try anything because you understood."

Virgil closed his eyes, suddenly tired. The heat had that effect on you and the stuffy air didn't help, but it wasn't just fatigue anymore, it was exhaustion. The physical and mental pressures of being confined were beginning to get to him. To begin with, he'd denied its presence, then he'd denied its reality but now he was recognising that it was very real, and also very justified.

"For what it's worth, I am sorry for doing what I did," Virgil looked to the ground, feeling a little ashamed of himself for breaching Luke's trust in him, though he wasn't sure why. Luke was, after all, one of the people holding him here against his will.

"Sorry for doing it or sorry for getting caught?" Luke smiled. "God, I sound like a psychologist," he scoffed. "We get asked that all the time. Are we really sorry?"

"I'm sorry for doing it." Virgil replied, "I was playing a dangerous game and I ended up just making the situation even worse."

"What exactly were you planning on doing?" Luke asked with a puzzled frown. "It's not like there's anywhere to escape to."

Virgil shrugged, "I don't know really, there's a full medical kit through there. I guess that's were I was heading, to get some kind of sedative or something, to somehow incapacitate you guys. The cutting gas I used knocks people out if it's used in cold conditions…" He realised that he hadn't thought the plan through properly and that he probably wouldn't have been successful even if he hadn't been caught out. It was testament to the pressure he was under and how it was messing with his ability to reason; normally, he was renowned for his good judgement. He began to realise that he wasn't dealing with this situation half as well as he thought he was.

"You know it changes everything," Luke met Virgil's gaze briefly, conveying the depth of his sincerity. "There's no way Jake's going to let you go now. If there's one thing he hates it's not being in control and you've just proved to him tonight that he doesn't scare you." The words caused Virgil to frown and he turned an inquisitive gaze in Luke's direction.

"What are you saying? You think he'll kill me?" he swallowed. Deep down he wasn't sure he could handle an answer to that question. Nevertheless, despite how much it petrified him inside, he wanted to know the score and he needed to prepare himself. He awaited Luke's response with trepidation and a tense expression.

Luke gazed across at his prisoner in sympathy before nodding with some reluctance. Virgil looked away and swallowed, struggling to comprehend what he'd just been told. He thought the concept over before turning back to Luke and trying to appear courageous. "I want you to do it," he said, his tone adamant. "If they're going to kill me I want you to be the one to do it. Will you do that for me?"

"Why me? Do you think I won't do it?" Luke responded, frowning down at Virgil as he spoke. "I will," he told him with direct honesty. "If they ask me, I won't have a choice."

"No," Virgil shook his head. "It's not that I don't think you could do it. I just…" he trailed off. "I just don't want to give either of them the satisfaction, that's all." He turned over in discomfort on the cold metal floor. "Please?"

Luke hesitated a moment then nodded, "If that's what you want. I don't suppose it'll make much difference to the outcome though."

Virgil nodded his thanks but felt an apprehensive weight settle in his stomach. Slowly he comprehended the enormity of what he'd just done. In asking Luke to be the one to carry out the task, he wasn't just preparing himself to the possibility of death; he was accepting that it was a virtual certainty.


	6. Chapter 6

_** Please be advised that this chapter and the next one become quite graphic in places **_

_**In Too Deep – Chapter Six**_

"Go ahead, Thunderbird Five," Gordon lifted his watch and waited for his brother's image to materialize. Sure enough, within a few seconds John appeared.

"How's it going, Gordy? Have you left Dublin yet?" John didn't waste any time and cut straight to the chase. He tried to ignore the way Gordon's hair fluttered in the background and the harsh wind that caused the speakers to crackle.

"Ah," Gordon sighed. "Not exactly, no, we've run into a problem or two," he admitted, glancing at John he could see his brother was awaiting for an expansion of that comment and didn't give him the change to ask. "We've got the K40 but there's a problem with it; one of the fuel tanks has a leak so we're down to using just the one."

John frowned hard. This wasn't what he wanted to hear, "Is it still airworthy?"

"Yeah, it's flyable." Gordon nodded. "Alan said the way the tanks are positioned it shouldn't affect the weight distribution too much," he added.

"Will it delay you from getting to Wales?" John asked, already trying to anticipate the problems they could face. He already dreaded telling their father and Scott. Neither would take the news well.

"Well," Gordon shrugged and moved into a sheltered space. The crackle from the wind consequently dropped. "We don't have a problem getting to Wales, the problem is that the hostage takers insisted it had a full tank of fuel. We were planning on topping the fuel up in Cardiff but even if we get to Wales with the one remaining tank full, the gauge will only read half."

"Because of the damaged fuel tank," John nodded in understanding.

"Yep," Gordon sighed. "We don't have time to fix it so Alan's rigging the fuel gauge now, then we're going to head over to Wales via Cardiff." He told John their new and improved plan.

"Well that's a good idea," John frowned, "but what about when the fuel starts running low. We don't want to cause another disaster by having them run out of fuel ten thousand feet in the air." He studied the expression on Gordon's face and the small grin that accompanied it before adding, "Not that they don't deserve it and don't get me wrong, I'd love for that to happen too. But we could be responsible for a major accident."

"Yeah, we figured that much so Al's fixing it so as when the fuel starts getting low, the gauge will kick in and the low fuel alarm will still work." Gordon replied, his expression told John that he doubted the hostage takers deserved the warning. He could see John was about to enquire as to just how Alan would know what to do to perform such an adjustment, so he continued quickly. "Don't ask me how. If I told you, I'd have to kill you," his smirk faded as he realised the reminders associated with those words at this particular time. "Let's just say Scott running out of gas on the way back from Virgil's graduation was no accident."

John smirked in admiration. His younger brothers never ceased to amaze him when it came to improvisation. He supposed being the youngest and the two pranksters of the family, they'd had to make certain modifications to things in the past, in the name of survival. "We'll talk about how much you're going to pay for my silence later," John informed him with a sly grin.

Appreciating the manoeuvre with a shake of the head and a wider grin, Gordon ignored his brother's bartering, "Speaking of which, have you heard anything from Virgil? How's he holding up?"

John's smirk suddenly dropped. "Yeah," he began to shuffle, feeling awkward. He adopted an emotionless stare, as he looked his younger brother in the eye. "Actually, there's something you should know…"

XxxxX

From where he sat at his control panel, Scott had long begun to doze as the time difference and his lack of sleep caught up with him. After talking to John and checking on the progress of the article, there wasn't much else he could do but wait. And if there was one thing he hated, it was waiting. He was forced to allow his mind to consider theories he didn't want to entertain and began envisaging just what Virgil was going through after all he'd heard. Following a great deal of anxious thought, the exhaustion had finally beat him and he'd drifted off to a light sleep. His rest wasn't peaceful but it enabled him to recoup vital energy, even if it was only brief. He was awoken by a shaking sensation and the sound of constant beeping.

Blinking his eyes open, he sat up from where he was using his arm as a pillow. He glanced at his watch prior to running both hands over his face in an effort to appear awake. Reaching forward to answer the radio with one hand, he combed his free fingers through his hair and said, "Go ahead, Base."

"Scott, Son," Jeff's image appeared on the screen and Scott concluded his father hadn't even made the same lax effort he had to appear respectable. It was a scene unfamiliar to most. Jeff Tracy was, at all times, precise, prepared and presentable. "How's it going?" Jeff asked, not at all perturbed by his own appearance.

Scott shrugged and held back a yawn, "Parker's ready to fit the tracker. We're just waiting for Gordon and Alan, they've been…"

"Delayed." Jeff finished the sentence for him. "I know, they told me. But they also told me they'd be there by seven, your time," he frowned.

Scott nodded. "Yeah, their last ETA was seven fifteen, they should be here any minute. How's Brains getting on with the article?" he asked. "I sent it about an hour ago."

Jeff conversed for a while off screen, "He's nearly finished. I'll send it through to you as soon as it's done." He paused, "Any news on Virgil?" he asked restlessly.

Scott offered a sad shake of his head. "Not yet, John's still trying to monitor the watch signal but it doesn't seem to be working. I think they've destroyed it," he theorised. "Either that or it's too far away from them to pick up any sound."

"Let's hope for the latter," Jeff mumbled and hoped destroying the watch wasn't a preamble for them damaging anything else. Especially when he knew what would be next on the list. "Okay, what about Dr. Hunt and Cook, where are they?"

"Well," Scott replied. "They're both still in the tent. I was planning to ship them out later, but I want them here until the article's been okayed. They might need to make changes and we'll need them here for that. Besides, I don't think Ned's planning on going anywhere," Scott smirked but saw his father's eyebrow rise at the first name term. His instincts told him without doubt that his father didn't approve.

"Hmm," Jeff was unhappy with the plan. "Okay, Son, I'll have Brains send over the finished article in a few minutes. Then I suggest you contact the Mole, and send it through. The quicker they get out of there the better." He nodded to himself, "John said you were trying to get through to warn them about the recycler, did you manage it?"

"No," Scott resisted the urge to stretch. "No one was answering the radio." He hadn't wanted to tell his father that for fear of the assumptions he knew he'd make. The same assumptions he'd made; Virgil was unable to answer the radio. Scott looked up to the darkened sky at the sound of aircraft jets above him, "I think this is Gordon and Alan, I can hear a jet." He glanced at his watch, "It's ten past seven."

"Is there enough space there for Alan to land?" Jeff asked, already aware that space in the clearing was tight. Especially with the Thunderbirds already there.

Scott didn't allow his father's question to distract him and concentrated on Alan's voice as he came over the radio requesting clearance for landing. His gaze followed the three evenly spaced lights on either wing in the semi-darkness. He watched as the plane swung round in an arc and then levelled off. "Alan's more than capable," he finally replied to his father. "There," Scott nodded as he watched the landing, "he's down. We've got to get to work, Dad, I'll keep you informed."

"FAB, Son, make sure you do." Jeff closed the link, now it was his turn to sit back and wait. With Brains concentrating on the article and Tin-tin still not returned, the silence was unfamiliar. He looked down at the paperwork on his desk and cast it to one side. Silently, he followed a long accustomed tradition and reached for a Scotch to calm his nerves.

XxxxX

The plane wasn't even stationary before Scott was jumping aboard and heading for the cockpit. He was unsurprised to find both his younger brothers already beginning post flight checks, "You two okay?" he asked.

Both Gordon and Alan turned to him and their expressions gave away their thoughts, the nods in reply seemed hollow after that.

"Flying in this thing is like taking a step back in time," Gordon growled. He stretched in the cramped confines of the cockpit, "I feel like a very big shark, forced into a very small shipwreck." Scott and Alan exchanged a frown as Gordon reached both hands up and removed the earphones he wore, "And believe me this thing is like a shipwreck with a couple of wheels and a pair of wings. In fact, I've seen shipwrecks that are more intact…" he trailed off when he realised both his brothers were staring at him. "What?"

Alan raised an eyebrow, "A very big shark inside a very small shipwreck?" he shook his head at Gordon's attempts at expressing himself. Unsurprised that Gordon had likened his discomfort to something to do with the ocean, Alan thought the idea through, "That's not a very good simile Gords," he frowned.

Gordon stood and rolled his neck to work the kinks out; several cracks later he shook his head, "Simile? Remind me which one that is again. English was never my strong suit." Alan didn't see but Scott turned to his aquanaut brother and saw him gesture outside.

"You okay doing this, Al?" Scott asked, sticking his head into the cockpit and gesturing to the clipboard his brother held as he carried out the necessary post flight checks. Receiving an affirmative nod of the head, he followed Gordon through the main cargo bay and out onto the ground. "What's wrong?" he enquired immediately.

"Nothing," Gordon shook his head. "Man, you're really on edge aren't you?" Scott scowled at the comment and Gordon moved on, not wanting to upset his brother. "I just can't stand it in there," he shrugged. "Heard anything from Virgil yet?"

Scott shook his head, "No, not since…"

"We know," Gordon spared him the distress of saying the words. "John called when we were in Ireland."

Scott nodded in understanding, "I've tried to get through to warn them about the air recycler but there was no answer." He tried to appear confident. If nothing else, Gordon and Alan's bantering had reassured him that things would improve now. Their presence was enough to lighten his spirits and change his perspective. He knew though, that his brothers needed him to lead them now, in a way he didn't think he'd ever led them before. They were relying on him, not only for orders but also for some much needed, silent support.

"Maybe they were asleep," Gordon put forward despite the fact that he knew it was unlikely.

"Yeah," Scott swallowed the explanation but only because he didn't want to think about a more plausible theory. "Maybe you're right." Scott swiped a hand over his face, "You'd better go and get changed." Scott gestured to Gordon's civilian clothes, "Penelope and Parker slept in Two so I suggest you get in there before she uses all the hot water."

Gordon nodded and grinned, "You coming too?" he asked, as subtle as ever. "You look like you could use a quick shower yourself."

Scott smirked and shook his head. "Thanks, Gords," he muttered, sarcasm evident in his tone of voice.

"Would you rather I lied?" Gordon asked as he began walking towards the mammoth green transporter. "Okay," he sung in a cheery pitch, "You don't look like you slept the night in Kyrano's herb garden, you haven't got dark smudges under your eyes and you smell divine." He sniffed for the air and smiled widely for effect.

Scott raised an eyebrow, "That's some serious sarcasm there, Buddy." His brother's humorous banter was rubbing off on him. He could only assume that was a good thing.

Gordon grinned once more and laughed good-naturedly. It was all he could do to mask the insecurities he felt inside.

XxxxX

Alan glanced at his watch and hopped slightly from foot to foot. Nervous wasn't exactly a comprehensive description of his feelings. Somewhere along the way there was fear, anxiety, trepidation, dread, terror, and he'd even go as far as to add panic to that list. He couldn't help himself. He'd succumbed to it, unable to keep up the façade that Scott and Gordon were maintaining. In a way, he was envious of his brothers' close control of their emotions but in another way, it just worried him further. He remembered his father once telling him: _ to overcome your fear is courageous but to ignore it is foolish_. He knew they were scared and that they were ignoring it.

"Will you please cut that out?" Gordon's voice whispered in his ear. He felt a firm hand on his shoulder steadying the swaying movement.

"Sorry," Alan replied, feeling a little guilty. He turned his attention back to Scott, who was sat at the mobile control console alongside them.

"Okay," Scott's gaze remained on the screen in front of him. "Thanks, Brains, I'll send it through now." He turned to his younger brothers, "The article's finished. Gordon, can you get Ned Cook over here for me, please?"

"FAB," Gordon gave a sharp nod and disappeared as Scott brought the article up on the screen and began reading it. Alan peered over his shoulder, impatient to read about Dr Hunt's exploits.

"Ah, there you are, Scott," Penelope approached looking as radiant as ever, despite the lack of sleep. Scott was always amazed at her grace in these kinds of situations. She looked like she'd spent the night in a five star hotel, not an uncomfortable metal bunk. "Hello, Alan, how are you?" she studied the youngest Tracy son for a while, awaiting a reply.

"Fine thanks, Lady Penelope." Alan was distracted by the article in front of him and kept his attention there.

"What have you there?" Penelope asked, moving to stand over Scott's other shoulder. Scott felt slightly annoyed at the pair of them but knew they were as apprehensive as he was to read the results and swallowed back a sarcastic retort. She scanned the screen, "Gosh, it's very long."

"Yeah well," Scott sighed and met her gaze for a few seconds. "There's a lot to say. You won't believe half the stuff this guy's been up to, all in the name of science." His angry scoff added to the sentiment, "This is exactly the kind of advances in technology we don't want! Brains'll be having a fit," Scott exclaimed with an irate shake of the head. He calmed his irritation and took a deep breath, "Have you got an update for us, Penelope?"

"Oh, yes," Penelope nodded. "Parker has fitted the device inside one of the interior panels in the cockpit and we've tested it three times. It shouldn't be detected there. Even if these rogues do check, it just appears to be wiring underneath the controls," she paused in thought but there was a contented smile gracing her features. It appeared she was satisfied with the arrangements. "Do you think they will verify the aircraft is clear before they take it?" she asked.

"No," Scott told her. "They've got no reason to distrust us. As far as they're aware we've complied with everything else they've asked for and who doesn't trust International Rescue?" He hoped his words were true. "Besides, by the time they get to the jet, they'll have released Virgil. I don't give a damn what happens after that." All he could think about, all he could concentrate on, was getting his brother back. He was trusting Penelope to deal with the perpetrators but only because he knew Virgil would need his support when they surfaced. If it hadn't been for that fact, he would have been the first one to extract retribution.

"Quite," Penelope nodded in agreement. Sensing his depth of feeling, she changed the subject away from such negative thoughts. "What an ingenious idea it was to track the aircraft from the ground," she commented. "FAB1 will be operating below the radar and we've already established that John will also be tracking the craft."

"You talked to John?" Scott asked, wrenching his neck to look up at her. She'd thought at the time that John wasn't himself but had put it down to the ghastly situation they were in. Scott's reaction made her wonder if there was more to John's uncharacteristic withdrawal.

"Yes, just a few moments ago," Penelope replied. "He seemed a little…" she struggled for the right word, "subdued." Watching Scott's response, she realised that there was a tale to be told and she frowned, inviting Scott to explain. Scott glanced at Alan, who was still reading the article, and shook his head answering Penelope's curiosity without saying a word. "I suppose we all are at present," she covered with the ease of practice. "I did ask him to pass on my congratulations to Brains." Penelope moved the conversation on again, understanding that Scott didn't want to worry his younger brother further. "Those St. Christophers work like a charm. And with the optional addition of a microphone, they're every top secret agents must-have accessory." She smiled but it was lost on Scott and though she understood why, she felt a little disappointed that she hadn't managed to raise morale. "Right, Parker and I will take our positions. I trust you will be keeping us apprised of the situation, Scott?"

"Yeah, Penelope, I will," Scott replied in the affirmative. "I'm going to send this through to them in a minute and then I'll let you know what the plan is." He told her, managing a brief smile.

"Very well, Scott, we shall be awaiting your orders," she placed a hand on his back in a gesture of unquestionable support. "Here's hoping everything goes to plan," she added.

"Yeah," Scott agreed as he watched her walk towards Thunderbird Two and her concealed car. "Here's hoping," he muttered.

XxxxX

The air was getting heavier but still Jake and Billy snored on the bench seats. Under Virgil's instruction, Luke had found the oxygen canisters in the storage cupboard. Used to enable the operators to breath on occasions where they would have to deal with smoke filled areas, the canisters required several quick checks to ensure they were functioning. Virgil had talked Luke through the required inspections and, with a few adaptations to some of the masks, they now had four functioning sets of breathing apparatus.

Wriggling about, Virgil grunted as a wave of pain shot across his chest. The position in which he was laid was making it difficult for him to keep the circulation flowing to his left arm. When he woke, he'd been laid on his left side and his left arm was completely numb. Rolling to his right meant putting all his weight on his bound wrists but rolling onto his front, caused his chest and neck to ache. He'd given up trying to find a comfortable position and settled for attempting to keep the blood flowing to his arms.

"Are you alright?" Luke leant forward as Virgil screwed his face up against the pain.

"My arm's numb again and I can hardly feel my hands," Virgil told him, trying to move. "It feels like an elephant is sat on my chest." He looked up hopefully and opened his mouth to ask, but Luke already knew what was coming.

"Don't ask me," he said before Virgil had the chance to speak. "You know I can't untie you, you've already tried something once. I can't risk it," he glanced up to the two red seats. Virgil wondered if it was the fact that he may try to overthrow them, or the fact that the other two might find out, that was risky.

"Okay," he conceded. "Can you help me sit up then?" he pushed, caution racing through every muscle, "Please?"

Luke glanced once more across to his two sleeping comrades and then moved forward, aiding Virgil into a sitting position against the opposite console. Virgil's torso swayed a little as he lost the concept of balance, Luke's hand steadied him and he tried hard not to pull away from the touch. "Are you alright?" Luke frowned.

Virgil nodded, breathless for a few seconds. The effort it had taken to move had exhausted him. He deliberated for a few moments on how much of it was caused by the depleting oxygen and how much from his damaged body. "Yeah," he managed to respond. "I'm alright, just a bit light-headed that's all." Luke seemed sceptical but sat back, watching his prisoner's every move. Virgil took a few minutes to get his breath back before meeting Luke's raised eyebrow. He snorted a laugh at his youngest captor's expression.

"You remind me of one of my brothers," Virgil smiled a wistful grin. He wanted, more than that, he needed the conversation to continue; it was keeping him sane. He found himself remembering the way his brother, John, would raise an eyebrow in a similar manner and then smile, often when he found something amusing that he shouldn't. He wondered if he'd ever see John do that again. The thought sobered Virgil considerably.

"Can I ask you something?" Luke shuffled a little closer and awaited Virgil's uncertain nod before continuing. "Are you really unafraid by all this?"

Virgil heaved a heavy sigh, and pulled an uncertain expression. When he thought about it he was afraid but by trying not to think about it, he was pushing the fear to one side. "I don't know," he admitted with a shrug. He was reluctant to confess exactly how he felt, even though his instincts were telling him, deep down, that Luke wouldn't exploit it.

"You don't know? You don't seem afraid," Luke replied with a thoughtful frown. "Doesn't it bother you that you might never see your family again?" Virgil swallowed, not needing the verbal reminder. His thoughts drifted to his family and for the first time he considered how they would react if the worst did happen.

They'd be devastated, of that he was sure. He cursed himself for being selfish enough to consider only his own feelings before now.

Finding it impossible to try to imagine how his family would cope, Virgil welcomed the sound of Luke's voice to distract him from his melancholy thoughts. "It bothers me," Luke admitted. Virgil looked across at him and an inquisitive frown formed on his battered features. "I want to see my family again," Luke said, his manner becoming wistful and sad. Virgil felt an element of jealousy rise up inside him. Luke was a father, and if his prediction about what was about to happen were to turn out correct, that was something Virgil would never experience. "Do you regret not having any kids?" Luke asked before Virgil had the chance to quiz him about his own family.

"I wish I could say I didn't have any regrets, but I'd be lying." Virgil paused, thinking about his life and the things he would go back and change, "I've grown up in a big family. I always assumed that when the time came, I'd have a big family too. Guess the time didn't come quick enough, huh? I never found the right person." Virgil found himself wondering how many of his relationships would have progressed if he hadn't let other things get in his way. He wondered just what he'd be doing if he hadn't left the real world to join International Rescue or more specifically, he wondered whether he'd be married by now. He wasn't complaining; he'd had more than his far share of relationships in the past, both good and bad. It just felt so unfulfilling now.

Virgil shrugged as best he could, "What about your family? Tell me about them." He didn't want the discussion to end. Strange as it was, the purposeful conversation was giving his mind something to process other than the situation. He didn't feel quite as alone as he had when he was being ignored and just forced to sit in silence on the floor.

"It's none of your business," Luke snapped.

"I didn't mean to pry," Virgil tried to apologise, worried that he'd crossed a line or hit a raw nerve. "I just don't understand how you ended up here. If what Billy said was true, then why didn't the authorities realize about your family?" He realised he was pushing his luck and gave up, instead sitting back with a frustrated sigh.

"I told you it's none of you business. Enough questions about me," Luke decided. "What about you? You've never felt the urge to settle down?" Virgil bit his lips together against both the emotional and physical pain. His bound wrists were throbbing and he ached all over.

"Yeah," he replied, grateful for the conversation and pleased that he hadn't pushed Luke into silence. "I often thought about it," he said, allowing himself to be honest now for his own sake. In his mind, he wasn't sure he'd get another chance. "But like I said, it wouldn't be fair to start a family now. I do this job knowing that there's a very real possibility I could be seriously hurt." He shook his head; sad that it was a fact and also sad that this whole experience was only proving it. "That's my decision but I can't expect anyone else to make the same commitment."

"So you gave up the opportunity to have a family of your own, all to join International Rescue?" Luke sighed in amazement. "That's a big sacrifice. I don't think I could do it." He ran a hand over his head, and took a small sip from the dregs of the bottle of water that Virgil eyed with desperation. "My family means too much to me." It was almost spoken with an accusing undertone.

"It's not all that bad," Virgil refuted the surprised but bitter tone to Luke's voice. "I love this job. I wouldn't swap it for the world." His thoughts were filled with resentment as he realised that even if he didn't love it, he wouldn't be able to do anything about it now. Shaking himself, he forced himself to be more positive.

"Not even for a family?" Luke struggled with the concept that Virgil wouldn't want to go back and change things in the past. After all, there was plenty he would change.

"I have a family, it's not like I'm on my own," Virgil told him. "Besides," he added, "I know what it's like to watch people you love walk into dangerous situations." For the second time, he stopped his tongue running away with its self; this was getting too close to the truth. "I…"

"Couldn't put anyone in a position where they felt that way about you," Luke finished for him. "Yeah, I get it. But it's no different to being married to a fireman or a copper, surely?" When Virgil just shrugged, Luke carried on. "Maybe that's why you're not scared," he theorised. "Because you're hardened to near death experiences."

Virgil thought about that phrase, wondering what constituted a near death experience.

"I never said I wasn't afraid," he said, surprised that the words left his mouth with such unchecked ease. He had been so adamant about never admitting that he was terrified. Now, he felt that somehow it made him weak that he'd done precisely that. Luke had broken his guard down bit by bit. Virgil could empathise with the youngest of his captors and he felt Luke was considerate of his situation in a way none of the others were. As his hope of surviving slowly faded, he found himself putting more and more reliance on Luke's support. A leap of faith that could prove disastrous.

Nevertheless, the stress, the pain and above all, the tension had long since overcome him. Deep down, he realised that the boundaries between rational thought and irrational judgment were becoming blurred. Whether it was the heat or the lack of oxygen in the air, he wasn't sure. He concluded that one of two things would happen: either he'd return to the safety of his family, or he'd end up on a cold slab in a morgue. The latter didn't appeal, yet it was the one deep down he believed to be more likely.

Either way, he thought, in four hours it'd all be over.

He couldn't have been more wrong if he'd tried.

XxxxX

"Mobile Control calling the Mole," Scott's voice crackled through the speakers of the burrowing machine causing Virgil's head to snap up. "Respond please," Scott continued.

Virgil looked across to Luke, "We should answer it, hopefully the article's finished." Luke nodded as Scott repeated the call in the background. He went to stand up and move across to the bench seats to wake the other two but Virgil spoke again, stopping him in his tracks. "Luke, it's not too late. You can still help us," he tried not to sound as if he was desperate but they both knew that was exactly what he was.

Luke just simply shook his head and reached a hand out to Jake's shoulder, "Jake, wake up."

Virgil watched from the floor as Luke woke both of them, his heart was sinking at the thought of what was going to happen next. The last thing he wanted was for them to get away, but at the same time all he could think about was going home to the safety and security of his family. Determined, he began to think about the things that he would do when he got out of this mess. First on the list was a nice hot shower followed by a slice of Grandma's infamous apple pie…

"Get up," he was jolted from his thoughts as Jake pulled on his bound arms, yanking him up until he had his feet under him. Virgil hid the pain the movement caused and bit hard on his lip. Feeling the now familiar iron taste of his own blood, he looked away. The rough skin of Jake's hand forced his face in the opposite direction and Jake inspected the damage closely. "Hmm," he frowned at Luke. "Not a bad job with the face." He shoved Virgil towards the communications console and, with a forceful hand on his shoulder, pushed him down in the seat. Virgil let out a grunt as his bound wrists pulled on his shoulders, but otherwise remained silent.

"Mole, this is Mobile Control, please respond," Scott's voice continued. Virgil could hear the change in the tone though and realised his older brother was beginning to lose an element of his much renowned self control. He hoped it was only noticeable to his own well-trained ears.

"Well, answer him!" Jake growled, holding his scalpel against the back of Virgil's neck.

"I can't," Virgil forced his lips steady as he spoke and tried to appear calm. Now of all times, he knew it was important to not let the fear show. Hiding his terror from three individuals he didn't know from Adam, was easy. Hiding his feelings from Scott was a difficult task at the best of times. "I need my hands to use the radio."

Virgil looked straight ahead at the small screen on the console. He didn't need to turn to where Jake stood alongside him to know he was frowning in deep displeasure. The ominous and imposing figure stood to his left heaved a sigh and, after a few seconds of thought, nodded with reluctance. "Alright, Billy, untie one hand," he ordered, gesturing to where Virgil was sat. "Make sure you hold the other one tight."

Virgil swallowed, as he felt the bonds being loosened and his right hand freed. He rotated his wrist a few times and flexed his fingers to get the blood flowing properly. The freedom was short lived as Billy twisted his left arm up behind his back and forced him forward on the seat, "Come on," he snarled, "get on with it!"

Virgil lifted his hand to the console and positioned the microphone on it's flexible stand, "Go ahead S.." he stopped himself, "Mobile Control."

"Virgil," Scott appeared on the small screen and took in his brother's battered appearance. "What happened?" he tried to appear shocked at Virgil's condition, though it was much of what he'd been expecting. "Are you okay?"

Jake gave an indignant scoff from Virgil's left, "You bloody well know what happened and don't pretend otherwise." Scott ignored the comment and concentrated on his brother. Virgil was pale and the fear he felt was written all over his face for Scott to see.

He frowned, "Are you okay?" he asked again. Scott's eyes strayed from where he met Virgil's gaze, he studied the cuts to his brother's forehead and cheeks, in particular the split skin of Virgil's eyelid. There was still dried blood on his face and the bruises that covered him were already starting to darken.

Virgil opened his mouth to reply despite the fact his eyes told Scott the real truth. He didn't get a chance to make a sound though, as Billy twisted his arm harder, "Cut the pleasantries and get on with it. Have you got the article?"

Scott saw Virgil stiffen and the look of pain that crossed his face. The display only further aggravated his anger, he was determined they would pay for this, in one way or another. "Yeah," he replied distracted by the expression on Virgil's face. "I'm sending it through now." He turned to his console before looking back, straight into Virgil's eyes. "It's sent. Any changes you need making won't make the morning addition in England. But they will in the States and parts of Europe." Scott paused, "Listen, there's something else, it's important…"

Whirring of machinery alerted Virgil to another console and he turned away to accept the data that Scott had sent.

Scott frowned at Virgil's lack of concentration. "Virgil, listen to me," he snapped a little, this information was not to be discarded. Virgil stopped at the tone, realising his brother was under stress, and turned back to him with a frown of his own. "Our engineer is worried that the air recycler won't be able to handle the constant use. He says if you let the motor burn out, then you've got a serious problem on your hands because the reverse thrusters will fail too."

Virgil looked up at him with a blank expression before beginning to nod his head. "The filter on the air recycler's already blocked, it's feeding back carbon dioxide," he said, his manner becoming business like. "We're starting to get a build up," he continued, surprised that no one had stopped the complex discussion. "But the air's still breathable."

Scott nodded, "Okay, if necessary there's always the oxygen canisters in the …"

Virgil's nod cut him off, "I've already thought of that, but I can't turn the recycler off, all other life support systems will go off too." He risked a glance sideways at his captors and found them all pouring over the hard copy of the article he'd just printed. Despite that, Billy still had his arm held in a firm grip.

Scott noticed that the other three hadn't spoken. "Are you okay?" he asked again.

Virgil tried to manage a small smile. He wanted to tell Scott so much but the words were cumbersome and the last thing he wanted was to worry his brother even more than he could see he was already. He shrugged and nodded a little, convincing himself that the words didn't need to be spoken to be understood.

Scott sighed at the forlorn, sad acceptance Virgil oozed. He looked tired, maybe the injuries to his face were accentuating that, but the thing that Scott found most disturbing by far was his brother's eyes. Not the bruising, nor the cut on his eyelid but what the eyes held: fear. A fear Scott knew Virgil would be trying to hide. Somehow, that just made it worse. Scott knew the fear he could see was only a fraction on the fear Virgil felt.

Pushing his own feelings away, Scott returned to safe ground. "We haven't received an ETD, have you sent one?"

Virgil's eyes flashed nervously and he felt Billy's grip tighten. "No," he shook his head. Answering as quickly as he could, before Billy had a chance to stop him. "But I will." He nodded at Scott, letting him know he'd received the true message.

"Whoa!" Billy barked, twisting Virgil's arm again. "Less of the abbreviations, what's an ETD?"

Virgil swallowed, afraid that they'd been discovered. He closed his eyes and his shoulders sagged, despite his tense posture. "ETD is Estimated Time of Departure," he was thankful when Scott's quick thinking reply came through the speakers.

Billy seemed satisfied and nodded. Scott's eyes went to Virgil though, who was smiling, grateful for his older brother's intelligence. The smile faded as Jake turned back to them, with a wide grin.

"This is passable. I've heard of this Cook bloke," he gestured to the article. "Is the plane ready?"

"Yes," Scott nodded. "With a full tank of fuel just like you asked."

Jake bit on his bottom lip pensively, "I want you to start it up now. We'll surface but I want the engines running by the time we get to it."

"Well," Scott frowned back, "if we start it up now, you realize that there won't be a full tank of fuel by the time you reach it?"

"Of course I realise that, don't treat me like I'm an idiot!" Jake snapped.

Watching as the blond protagonist bristled and bared his teeth brought the image of a caged animal at a zoo to Scott's mind.

"And there are no tracking devices?" Scott shook his head. "We're not to be followed," Jake reiterated.

Scott nodded and again, let his gaze return to his brother. "All we want is Virgil back," he said. Virgil's eyes met his and he swallowed again, harder this time. Scott couldn't help but pick up the foreboding vibes his brother was expelling by the dozen load. Before Virgil could comment, Jake bellowed to cut the feed and Virgil closed his eyes in an effort not to flinch at the sudden assault on his eardrums. He did as requested and closed the link but not before glancing up to Scott with a sad smile.

The melancholy look in Virgil's eye appeared defeated and apologetic. Even though it only took a second for the look to pass between them, the after affects, Scott knew, would be harder to shake. He'd never seen such a hollow sadness in his brother before, but he was certain that in that moment Virgil had not only validated his fears but brought about a whole new level of helplessness.

Scott had been afraid in his lifetime. He wasn't ashamed of it either - sometimes fear was what kept you going. He'd feared for his own life and he'd feared for his brothers' lives too, Virgil included, but he'd never felt the same fear that he felt in that one fleeting moment.

"Scott?" Gordon's voice brought him back to his surroundings and he realised that his brothers were awaiting some kind of news. "How is he?" Gordon questioned.

"He's fine," Scott found the words leaving his lips before he'd even processed the question. He looked around the room at his brothers, and then Ned and Dr Hunt before turning back to his console to face the live feed from Thunderbird Five.

"John, can you get on to Base? Let them know what's happening. They're going to be surfacing now." The command felt good and he turned across to Gordon and Alan, ready to try another one. "Alan, take Dr. Hunt and Ned to the town. They'll be safer there," he nodded to himself, content to take his mind away from the other places it might've strayed to. "I'll contact Lady Penelope. Gordon, you go and break us out some weapons from Thunderbird Two."

Gordon acquiesced and turned away, walking confidently out of the tent, but Alan hesitated. He looked across to Ned and Dr Hunt, neither showing signs of moving. He wasn't sure he had time to evacuate them anyway, but the last thing he wanted was to question Scott's orders, considering the mood his older brother was in.

Thankfully he didn't have to, John's voice could be heard through the radio, "Scott, the Mole's moving now. Virgil's following the course I sent through earlier. There won't be the added friction of drilling through the earth so he should be a bit quicker." John hesitated, aware that questioning Scott's authority would only get him into a sticky situation. He hoped his brother would pick up on what he was saying and claim the idea as his own.

Sure enough Scott nodded, "Okay, so we won't have time to evacuate." He frowned, "Dr. Hunt, Ned," he addressed the two civilians. "You're going to have to stay here until it's all over. However, it's essential that you stay here, out of sight. They made it clear that they didn't want anyone here except us, so you lay low okay?" Dr Hunt smiled and gave a nervous nod. Ned's expression was a complete contrast to Dr Hunt's apprehension. The intrepid reporter nodded his head in excitement, his eyes gleaming with the adrenaline rush.

"Right," Scott turned back to John. "John, when you've contacted Base, can you get me a status report on the fire?" He waited for John's nod and the standard reply before turning back to Alan. "You'd better go and start the engines going on that jet and then go give Gordon a hand," he watched his youngest brother as he hurried out of the tent.

Opening a channel to Penelope, he relayed the information they already had and awaited her response. Somewhere in the background the jet's engines had started and were getting louder.

"I see, Scott," she responded from the screen. "I've been doing a little detective work myself," she smiled and raised a demure eyebrow. "Parker and I have been trying to anticipate precisely what our friends in the Mole are planning. We've been working on the assumption that they'll be heading for an airfield of some kind. After all, they'll need either more fuel or another plane, depending on where they want to go. It seems one of them may have the contacts necessary for that kind of manoeuvre," she paused to glance down at her lap and confirm the information. "William McConnell served in the Navy alongside a Terrence Balder. This Balder character now runs the Air Traffic Control centre at an aerodrome just south of Newcastle."

Scott frowned, unconvinced. "You think he'll head there? For what, another plane?"

Penelope was already nodding in reply, "Parker's been in touch with one or two of his fellow…" she hesitated in order to find the word, "contemporaries, shall we say." Clearing her throat, she continued, "He came across a chap who knew Jake Field quite well. Seems he's always had a penchant for France, he made big plans to escape there once," Penelope's eyebrows raised yet again.

"That's great work, Penelope," Scott grinned, though he was still apprehensive. "But it's still a long shot, I think we should be prepared to track them anywhere. There's no guarantee that Field or McConnell still have the outside contacts they once did."

Penelope nodded, "Absolutely, Scott, I couldn't agree more." She looked up at the concealed anxiousness on his features and felt she should try again to reassure him. Hopefully it would have more of an affect than her earlier failed attempt. "Don't worry," she sighed, "Parker and I have every possible eventuality covered. We won't let you down, Scott. These crooks will get what they deserve."

Scott smiled at her positive attitude and her sheer determination, "I sure hope so, Penelope." He began to feel the ground shaking and assumed the Mole was nearing the surface. "I think they're surfacing, I'll keep you informed," he told her as Gordon and Alan came into the tent at a run.

"FAB, Scott," she hoped the smile she conveyed was reassuring as she closed the link down and sighed heavily. "Oh dear, Parker, what a tangled web we seem to be caught up in."

Scott meanwhile, stood up from his console and headed over to where Alan and Gordon where sorting through weapons. Approaching them he pinched the bridge of his nose and took a deep breath, "What have you got? The Mole's going to be surfacing soon."

Gordon was the most experienced of the two younger brothers in the weapons department and handed Scott a heavy duty fire arm. "Here," he said, watching his brother weight the weapon. "It's fully loaded already and I've got a spare magazine over there," he gestured to the small box on the floor. "There are laser guns in here, but I thought it might get too dangerous so I wasn't sure …" he shook his head, looking to Scott for guidance.

"This'll be fine," Scott replied. "They're only as a precaution anyway. Hopefully we won't have to use them." He examined the weapon, working the safety catch and checking the barrels. Alan and Gordon selected theirs and followed his lead. "Okay, listen up," Scott spoke. His tone, as authoritative as it always was, garnered his brothers' attention. "Our main priority out there is to keep Virgil safe and stop him from getting hurt. Catching these guys and dishing out our own brand of justice," he waved a hand. "That all comes second to Virgil. Penelope and Parker are ready to do that for us," he added as he looked at both his brothers in turn. "Now, we know these guys have knives and that they've got Virgil's gun. Just because we don't know they have anything else, doesn't mean they don't." He paused, holding the gun in his own hand up, "Now these weapons are for self defense only, so it's imperative no-one shoots unless they shoot at us first, got it?"

Gordon and Alan both nodded, feeling a strong sense of duty towards both their elder brothers. "What's the plan then, Scott?" Gordon asked.

"Well, we don't know what's going to happen when they surface so the plan's more of a rough guide," he looked across at Gordon, trusting him to use all his military training in this exercise. "We stand between the Mole and the jet. The jets engines are running, so hopefully they'll release Virgil and we can let them take off in the jet."

"What if they don't release Virgil?" Gordon asked, nervous of the holes in their plan. From his left, he saw Alan glaring at him for making such a suggestion.

"They'll release him, they won't have a choice if they want their jet," Scott's reply was adamant. He hoped that was an end to the discussion. He knew Gordon was trying to cover every angle but he'd run through every eventuality in his mind already and he'd made his decision. Gordon's job was to obey him, not to question him.

"Have you thought about what we'll do if they try to take Virgil with them?" Gordon's questions continued.

"Of course I have," Scott replied with a little more bite than necessary. "Look, these guys are using Virgil as a means to an end; to get to that jet and escape. After they've done that, he's of no use to them. They won't take him," he said with certainty. "They've got no reason to," he added. Deep down, he was convincing himself as much as he was convincing the others. He missed the fleeting look of uncertainty passing between his youngest brothers.

Gordon nodded at Scott's curt reply despite the fact that he had reservations. He trusted his eldest brother to know what the best course of action was, and he knew that Scott's plan would have their father's backing.

"Mobile Control to Thunderbird Five," Scott plopped down at his console, as Alan stood by the tent door waiting for the Mole to surface.

"Go ahead, Scott," John looked up, a little weary in his appearance. "I've just checked on your fire," he spoke quickly and avoided his brother's gaze. Scott knew he felt guilty about what had happened during the night, but John had been right; they didn't have time for that now. "What's left of the fire is burning itself out. It's completely extinguished in the main rooms that were fitted with the fire fighting system," John reported, knowing that would have been what Scott was calling for. "There's heat registering from a lab at the back of the center, but that's miles away from you and there's also heat and smoke registering from a storage room. That's a lot closer to you, but according to the list I have here, there's nothing explosive stored there." He met Scott's gaze with a brief glance, "I think it's just stationary. It should burn itself out. It's just taking longer because there's no system in there."

"Thanks, John," Scott nodded. "Let me know if there's any change. You all set to help Penelope?"

"Yeah," John replied but he seemed distracted. "Mole's ETA to the surface is seven minutes, shouldn't you be in position?"

Scott glanced at his watch and gave a nervous grin. "Yeah," he sighed. "Keep in touch."

"FAB," John nodded, his blond hair falling into his eyes until he swiped it away, "Good luck, Scott," he added softly.

Scott ignored that last comment for the sake of his sanity and turned to his two younger brothers, "Okay, are you ready for this?" he asked.

"As ready as I'll ever be," Alan replied, as they made their way out of the tent, giving one final warning to Ned and Dr Hunt as they did.

XxxxX

Virgil adjusted the controls as the Mole began to thread its way along the course. They were nearing the surface now and the battered pilot had mixed feelings. He took a deep breath and concentrated on the task at hand. As the Mole responded to his one handed commands, the incline changed and any loose material in the cabin slid towards the nose. A clatter to his left drew Virgil's attention away from the controls and he saw the remains of his watch in a heap on the floor. He was tempted to try and retrieve it but he knew it was broken beyond repair and he couldn't risk being caught.

Virgil tried to ignore his three captors' as they crowed above his head about the finished article and its contents. It seemed they were pleased with the finished result, even though Virgil was pretty sure it wouldn't actually have been published. After a while, they reached the surface and the burrowing machine levelled out as it came to stop on its trolley. A loud hissing noise filled the cabin and the prisoners' laughter faded away.

"What the hell is that noise?" Jake demanded, looking around him but taking steps to close the distance between himself and Virgil, in a threatening manner.

"It's the air recycler," Virgil told him, his gaze on the scalpel that Jake was thrusting in his face. "It's sucking in the oxygen from the air outside. The air in here should get easier to breathe now." He kept his explanation simple on purpose, so as not to anger Jake with unnecessary and complicated technical jargon.

"Hmm," Jake frowned, suspicious of his explanation and looked up to Billy who still held Virgil's wrist in a tight hold. "Tie his hands again, he's served his purpose now," Jake spoke over Virgil's head but the words didn't go unnoticed and they succeeded in sending a chill up Virgil's spine. He no longer resisted as he felt Billy take his wrists and re-tie them behind his back. He didn't even wince when Billy tugged with vigour and the coarse rope dug into his wrists.

Jake looked around, surprised by the artificial lights that continued to shine. "Doesn't this thing have any windows?" Virgil shook his head in reply and opened his mouth to point out the two small circular windows, but Billy yanked his arm and he clamped his mouth shut to stop himself crying out. "Great!" Jake groaned, "How are we supposed to see if the plane's even there?"

"Virgil, can you cut the engines on this thing?" Luke stepped forward and gestured to the console, much calmer than his comrades. "Maybe we can hear it."

"No," Virgil shook his head. "Not until the air recyclers have finished. Then they'll switch off themselves. It should take about twenty minutes," he informed them. Glancing up to one of the screens on the console, he checked on the progress bar.

"Good," Billy nodded, pulling Virgil to his feet with his bound wrists. "Plenty of time then," he grinned and took a firmer grip on Virgil's forearms.

"Plenty of time for what?" Luke voiced Virgil's own thoughts and he glanced between his two companions with a frown of confusion.

Billy smirked at Jake with malice and then took a step closer to Virgil until he was stood right behind him. Virgil felt the heat of his body and tried not to flinch as Billy leant forward until his mouth was alongside Virgil's ear. "Settling some scores," he rumbled.

"What?" Luke asked, frowning at Billy's intimidation.

Billy's reply was to push Virgil's shoulder, causing him to stumble forward. "On your knees," Billy instructed, digging his knee into Virgil's back to ensure he stayed where he was.

Luke looked between Billy and Jake who had taken a seat at the control console and was watching the display in amusement. "What the bloody hell are you doing?" he squeaked as Billy took casual steps round to Virgil's front. Picking up the gun that rested on the seat as he did, he began loading it in a methodical manner.

"We don't need him anymore, and he knows too much," Billy said as he finished loading the bullets and snapped the gun shut. Virgil watched in surprise as Billy handled his gun with almost the same skill Virgil himself had. He remembered what Luke had said about Billy having had experience with guns and wondered about his criminal past.

"Of course we need him!" Luke was exclaiming, his own voice rose as he spoke. He was well aware of what was about to happen and was beginning to panic. "How… How are we going to get out of here without him?" he flustered, waving a hand at their surroundings.

"Calm down, Luke," Jake said from the other side of the cabin, where he toyed with the scalpel in his hands. "There aren't any key pads on this side of the door," Luke's head turned to the electric door, checking the validity of the statement. "We'll be fine getting out," he nodded to a sign that stated quite clearly how to use the exit, in case of an emergency.

Virgil watched in silent horror as Billy raised the gun and levelled it at his head, pushing the barrel up against his forehead. He took in a deep breath and bit his bottom lip, before meeting Luke's gaze with wide eyes.

"Some people say the perfect execution should be done from behind, but the front's so much more personal." Billy's brutal smirk carried a sadistic streak, "Wouldn't you agree?"

"Billy, wait!" Luke stepped forward, his hands raised. He met Virgil's wide eyed expression once more but only for a few seconds. "I'll do it," he moved to take the gun from Billy but the blond pushed him away with his free hand.

"No, it was me he would've killed." Billy argued, "I'll do it."

"Why?" Luke argued back. "We promised International Rescue we wouldn't hurt him. Why would you kill him?"

Billy scoffed, pushing the gun against Virgil's skin and causing his prisoner to tense. "Don't talk to me about promises!" Billy exploded. "He promised he wouldn't try anything and he did. Now he has to face the consequences." He looked across to Luke, who was shaking his head. Seeing the negative action, he added, "For Christ's sake, Luke, he held a gun to my head and pulled the trigger. He would've killed me! Hell, he could've killed me!" He paused and turned his attention back to Virgil, "What goes around, comes around."

Virgil concentrated on breathing deeply and not letting the panic show. He pressed his sweaty palms together behind his back and realised his hands were trembling. Squeezing his fingers, he tried to stop the rest of his body from following suit. As Billy's thumb moved to the safety catch Virgil tried to speak. "I…" he trailed off, finding his throat too dry. Coughing a little, he tried again, "Would you deny a dieing man his last wish?"

Billy looked up and rolled his eyes, sarcasm and boredom contained there at the request, "That depends on what it is."

"In my pocket…" Virgil stammered out, "In my pocket, there's a foil wrapped piece of toffee." He bit his bottom lip in trepidation and watched the others look between themselves. "Let me eat it," Virgil swallowed. "Please."

He was playing a dangerous game. He'd been trying to get at his Editable Transmitting Device ever since Scott had given him the coded message, but with his hands bound it was impossible. He was well aware that eating it now would do him no good whatsoever if they were to kill him. But he was relying on the fact that he knew how Jake liked to torment him. Besides, he thought, even if it didn't work at least they'd be able to find his body, unlike Luke's brother. He was barely aware that his brothers were less than five metres away and that there wasn't an issue with finding his body. Such was his confused mental state.

He realised now that he'd been consumed by the fear and the panic, causing his normally clear thought process to become indistinct and imprudent. He was panicking. Pure and simple. This was one of the few times in his life when Virgil Tracy was really panicking.

Billy gestured Luke to retrieve the camouflaged device and he did as he was told, reaching into Virgil's pocket. He stood back and unwrapped it, but was interrupted when Jake stepped forward. In his head, Virgil let out a sigh but in actuality he daren't. "Give it here," Jake commanded, reaching over Virgil's head to hold a hand out.

Luke obliged and Jake lifted the toffee to his nose, smelling it. "Strange request," he commented. "Most people want a call to their loved ones. Or at least a…" he adopted a high pitched, pathetic voice, "'tell them I love them'." He smirked down at where Virgil knelt on the floor now unable to stop himself shaking.

Jake held the unwrapped sweet to Virgil's lips and for a few seconds the pilot thought his plan had backfired. He met Jake's hard glare and swallowed before opening his mouth.

As he'd expected, Virgil's taste buds began to water and he could smell the sugary aroma before Jake suddenly pulled it away and popped it into his own mouth. Virgil resisted smiling in satisfaction when he realised that Billy was still holding a loaded gun to his head; he'd lost his battle and they were winning the war. He hoped what he'd just done would go some way to turning the balance. They could never escape being tracked now.

"Hmm," Jake sighed in satisfaction. "Strawberry, my favourite." He smirked at Virgil, thoroughly pleased with himself, "Go on, Billy, he's all yours." Jake disappeared to Virgil's left, coming to stand behind him.

Billy checked the safety catch was off and steadied his hand.

Virgil took in a deep breath, then closed his eyes, ready to accept his fate and determined he would not give them the satisfaction of seeing his horror.

"Open your eyes!" Billy shouted, pushing the gun a little harder. Virgil's tense form rocked with the extra pressure.

Without any rush, he complied. His eyes felt moist and he was suddenly aware that they would appear watery. He tried to blink it back but the smirk on Billy's face told him, he'd already seen. Angry that he'd allowed himself the humiliation, Virgil's resolve hardened.

"That's better," Billy told him. "I want to see what's going through your mind in the last minutes."

"Billy, don't do it!" Luke was still trying to dissuade the would-be murderer.

Virgil screwed his nose up a little in disgust but bit down hard on his lip. It came to his attention that things should be spinning through his mind now. You were supposed to see your life before you in your last few moments. However, in those few precious seconds when he should've been considering his loved ones and how he'd spent his life, he found his mind blank.

A sudden thought struck him as to what Gordon had wanted with cerise coloured paint yesterday and then….

"BANG"


	7. Chapter 7

**_Please be advised that this chapter becomes quite graphic in places. _**

_**In Too Deep – Chapter Seven**_

"BANG"

The shout was loud, gruff and came from right beside his ear.

The anticipation of a gunshot meant the slightest noise triggered a reaction and the louder the sound the more of a reaction it garnered. Virgil didn't even register where the noise had come from before he squeezed his eyes shut and sucked in a quick breath. Instinct told him to jerk away from the threat and he closed his mind to what he knew was happening around him. For a few seconds, he was surprised at the lack of pain, or even pressure, against his forehead but then logic kicked in and he realised that from such close range, he probably wouldn't have felt a thing. Did that mean he was dead?

"Sometimes, the look in someone's eyes when you're about to do something, is almost as good as actually doing it," he was told between bouts of hysterics.

The strident laughter that echoed around him was broken only by breathless gasping for much needed air. As the cackling continued, Virgil realised that the lack of pain and the raucous crowing were both signs that he was still very much alive. In turn, that meant only one thing: the nightmare was continuing. All the evidence led him to the conclusion that there had been no shot fired, no searing pain as he'd expected and no end to this horrendous encounter. He forced an eye open, apprehension stiffening his muscles, and allowed himself a look around.

Billy was grasping his sides and laughing so hard that he was bent over. He still held the gun but was waving it around in a lackadaisical manner. As if it was inconsequential and didn't have the potential to end life. Virgil flinched as his ears became attuned to the hysterics coming from behind him; the loud guffawing made him cringe. To his horror, he realised not only was he shaking but that he was sweating profusely. Rivulets of sweat ran down his face, as if he was stood outside in the pouring rain. He began to feel grateful that he hadn't had the opportunity to drink anything substantial as he was sure he would have lost it.

As his vision began to grey a little and his chest burnt, Virgil recognised that he hadn't released the sharp intake of breath he'd taken at the last minute. Shaken, he allowed himself to breath and began gasping for oxygen that, in his suspense, he'd starved himself of.

"For God's sakes!" Luke exclaimed. He looked down at Virgil who remained on his knees but had slumped back and was panting as his body demanded oxygen faster than he could supply it. "Look at him!" Luke gestured down to their hostage before glaring at his comrades. "You're sick!" he shook his head as he stepped forward towards Virgil.

Virgil was too busy trying to drag air into his lungs to register Luke's hands on his shoulders. As his youngest captor tried to pull him to his feet, he flinched away. Unable to stop the momentum, he ended up on the floor in a heap. His stomach lurched at the movement and as the inside of his mouth began to tingle, he felt a sudden rush of goosebumps all over his body. Proceeded by a sudden rush of something else as his stomach rebelled.

Billy cried out an incoherent comment that left Virgil in no doubt as to his sentiments but he had no opportunity to gloat, he was hyperventilating and could only concentrate on dragging air back into his lungs. Humiliated, he put the sickness down to shock or lack of food, possibly both, and tried to regain some dignity. Breathing as deeply as he could at first, it wasn't long before he felt the burning in his chest beginning to subside, and the laboured gasps evened out.

The incident sobered the others and within seconds, the laughter had died away and been replaced with a mutual feeling of repugnance, which hung in the air.

"That's disgusting," Billy screwed his nose up.

"Get him on his feet," Jake ordered, ignoring the scene and stepping forwards. "We need to see for ourselves that the plane is there," he sighed, speaking almost to himself. "And this thing has no windows?"

Virgil shook his head, feeling the colour return to his face. He swallowed but then shuddered at the bitter, acidic aftertaste left there. "Only those," he gestured to his left at the miniature circular windows on either side of the Mole's main body. Within seconds, Jake darted over to the reinforced glass and pushed his face against it. Trying to see out was impossible though and after a few attempts, he gave up. His frustration was turning to anger and Virgil was aware of where he'd be channelling it. He began thinking fast.

"Camera," he managed to get out, grimacing at the way his stomach churned again. "There's a camera at the front, for drill positioning," he swallowed without thinking and experienced the same acrid taste. "I can operate it," he said. "But I need my hands," he moved his fingers behind his back, hoping to keep the blood flowing.

"No," Jake shook his head, adamant that Virgil wouldn't be released again. "Tell me what to do."

The hissing of the air recycler came to a halt and with a drone, the motors powered down leaving silence in their place. Jake and Billy looked around them, on guard. "What's that?"

"I told you," Virgil repeated his earlier statement. "It's the air recycler. Now it's finished, the motors will shut down. The only systems to stay operational will be the lights and life support, because the machine senses we're still in here," he explained.

"Yeah, right," Jake snapped, he pointed to the red console at the nose of the burrowing machine. "Tell me what to do," he ordered for a second time.

Virgil gave him instructions until the camera had been activated, "Now, move it using the stick." Jake followed his commands and moved the camera until the requested jet was in sight.

"There it is," Billy grinned. "I can't believe this is happening, we're actually doing it!" he enthused. "No more tests at six in the morning, no more needles and horrible procedures!" His elation, Virgil hoped, was a little premature.

"Yeah," Luke said sarcasm in his tone. "All we have to do now is reach the jet!" His voice was loud and his eyes darted about in anger. It was obvious he was unhappy with what had just happened and he glared up at Billy, with a burning fury in his eyes. Virgil watched him, surprised, as he took Billy's arm and spun him round. "What the hell were you playing at?" his voice got louder, and his body language became aggressive. For the first time since they'd talked, Virgil could envisage him as a killer. His anger seemed to be erupting, like a timed explosion but after the event.

"Luke," Jake sighed, arms raised in a defensive gesture, "Luke, calm down!"

"Calm down!" Luke was shouting, his temper, if possible, rising further. "You could've told me!" Virgil's head was pounding but he failed to register the increase in pain, his shock at the sudden anger in the young man's voice was so great.

Jake scoffed, "Come on!" he exclaimed. "You didn't think we'd actually kill him, did you?" he asked, his tone patronising. His answer came in the hot, tense air and the irate silence that followed. "We're hardly going to kill him yet, are we?" Jake asked, he was attempting to belittle his comrade but Virgil noted the fact that it was only a matter of time. "We haven't reached the jet." Luke frowned and Jake's smile became menacing as he spoke, there was a calculating sparkle to his eye, "We're taking some security; your friend's coming on a little adventure."

"We told International Rescue that we'd let him go," Luke shook his head and sighed. Raising a hand to his forehead, he shuffled from one foot to the other in an outward display of his discomfort. "We can't betray them," he shrugged.

Jake circled him, like a shark menacing its prey before it attacks. "Betray them?" he exclaimed. "What? You mean like he betrayed us!" He stopped to poke Virgil in the chest. The angry prod was painful and watching the continuous movement was only adding to Virgil's nausea, making him feel dizzy. He concentrated on his spot on the floor, listening but not looking. "Are you forgetting what he did? How he held a gun to Billy's head? How he pulled the trigger?" Jake pushed, "What if we hadn't taken the bullets out? Hmm? As far as he knew the gun was loaded."

"Yeah!" Billy joined in, "I told you, he would've killed me!"

"And you're willing to take International Rescue at their word?" Jake shook his head, his tone back to patronising. "We can't be one hundred percent sure that they haven't already installed some kind of tracking device." He explained the logic behind his decision, "They could be planning to shoot us out of the air, for all we know! At least, with him aboard we know they're not going to try anything."

"If we take him with us though," Luke argued, "we run the risk of them following us."

Jake was already shaking his head, "No," he reasoned. "We'll tell them that if we're tracked we'll kill him." He waited for a response, but none came so he endeavoured to explain his grand plan further. "If we tell them we'll drop him safely somewhere, they have to trust us, they won't have a choice. Then we'll get rid of the body, and get in contact with Billy's mate."

There was ominous silence.

Virgil slowly digested the transformation from 'him' to 'body'. He still felt uncomfortable from his last near-miss, his hair was damp from the sweat and his uniform clung to his clammy body. This latest development did nothing to reassure him that he was safe by any means.

When no-one questioned him, Jake went on, dictating more orders. "We could nick a car to take us to the airport and we're safe from there with Billy's mate in the know. There's always the base where Billy trained for us to land," he theorised. "Look, I don't care what you two do then. I'll be jetting off into the sunset to start my new life," he waved a steady hand out in front of him, as if imagining the sun on the horizon. His sickly sweet grin was almost responsible for reacquainting them with the contents of Virgil's stomach. Swallowing and keeping the heaves that shook his chest to himself, Virgil managed to keep it down this time.

Billy nodded, "Okay, if that's the final plan, let's get on with it."

Jake grabbed Virgil from behind and forced him towards the door. "Billy, take the gun," he ordered. "Both of you, make sure you're tooled up." He jabbed Virgil in the back and he had no choice but to take a step forward. Jake pressed the cool, sharp implement he carried against Virgil and pushed his own body closer to his captive. Virgil felt the pressure and the scratch as it dug into the delicate but clammy skin around his neck. Instinct told him that it wasn't a healthy place to be and he attempted to back away from the smooth metal but he only succeeded in pushing his body further against Jake's. His head rotated against his captors shoulder and exposed the vulnerable region of his throat. As had been the intention.

With Jake's iron grip around his, already bound, wrists and the scalpel threatening to do insurmountable damage with the slightest movement, it was all Virgil could do to breathe and comply, let alone resist. As Billy's hand hovered over the touch pad that would open the door, Virgil found himself wondering if his youngest two brothers would be on the other side. Half of him hoped they would, it would give Scott strength to deal with the situation and support in the physical sense of having extra bodies. With a shudder, he shied away from that word. The other half hoped that Gordon and Alan had stayed away. He felt humiliated enough that Scott would witness his wretched situation, for his younger brothers to witness it too would be soul destroying.

He scoffed to himself, what was it they say about pride before a fall? He couldn't understand why he was considering such an insignificant detail when compared to the grand scheme of things. Psychology classes taken whilst in school told him that it was a diversion, concentrating on the small immaterial things rather than the larger issue, was that diversion, he pondered, or displacement? He chided himself for not paying more attention. Maybe it was both. Either way, it brought a whole new meaning to the phrase death before dishonour.

XxxxX

Outside the Mole, the atmosphere was just as tense. The International Rescue operatives stood around in a semi circle, spaced out on the dry ground to cover every angle, their guns raised towards the yellow automatic sliding doors in anticipation.

The burrowing machine had been stationary for a good fifteen minutes before Gordon hissed, "What the hell are they doing in there?"

"Maybe we should go in," Alan suggested.

"No!" Scott shook his head. Stood in the centre, he held his chosen weapon out in front of him. His hand was steady, even though his heartbeat was erratic and he stared ahead, not daring to take his eyes of the scene. "We wait for them to make the first move," he decided, his gaze unflinching. "Attempting to get in might cause them to panic and that's the last thing we want. We don't want them to do anything stupid."

"What if they're waiting for us to make the first move, Scott?" Alan turned his head to face his brother and broke his concentration.

"They won't be," Scott snapped. The answer was a categorical dismissal. "They're just taking their time, trying to make us restless by keeping us waiting. It won't work," he finished, there was a warning in his tone. His brothers shouldn't let it get to them either.

"But Scott…" Gordon's sentence trailed off as the Mole emitted three loud beeps, a prelude to the doors opening.

All three brothers raised their weapons and watched wide eyed for any signs of life. The doors swished open with the usual sound of hydraulics in action, but for a few moments, nothing happened.

To his left, Scott saw Alan inch forward from his position, "Alan!" he warned. "Keep still and be on your guard."

"Maybe they want us to go inside," Alan replied, his tone fierce and questioning Scott's determination.

"No," the elder brother spoke and glared at Alan in an angry gesture which revealed to him that his brother was fast approaching the end of his tether. In fear of Scott's wrath, Alan's feet remained in place but he begrudged the order and shuffled about, making his feelings known.

Distracted by Alan, Scott was suddenly aware that the three prisoners had appeared and were stepping out onto the caterpillar tracks of the undercarriage. The first two out jumped down onto the ground without fuss, kicking up minimum dust from the dry earth. However when the third materialised Scott saw their first hurdle; there was a commotion as the three of them manhandled Virgil down onto the ground.

Scott stopped himself taking an instinctive step forward when he saw his brother struggling against their clumsy manoeuvring. Gordon didn't have the same amount of control and moved towards them, his instinct to help.

"Stay back!" Billy waved the gun in Gordon's direction, effectively stopping him in his tracks. 

Gordon looked to Scott for some kind of direction and the elder brother didn't need to see Alan, to know he was watching him too. He took a step forward so as he was level with Gordon and saw Alan copy the movement out the corner of his eye.

"You heard him," Jake reiterated. "Stay back!" He still had a firm grip on Virgil's wrists and the scalpel in his hand was already threatening to cut into Virgil's skin. Despite the pilot's attempts to distance himself from the object, Jake's body was still preventing him from taking a step backwards and his steady hand only helped Virgil to judge just how much he was trembling. The pressure from the scalpel increased, the cool metal was a burning reminder of the potential damage as it scraped against his skin. Virgil tried to resist again, and pulled away from the mortal threat but it was no good.

"Look," Scott's eyes took in his brother's reaction. Virgil was pale and uncomfortable at the situation, that much was obvious. His neck muscles were straining in an effort to pull away from the knife and his breathing was unsteady. Scott addressed Jake as a matter of urgency but tried to appear calm, his free hand raised in a gesture of peace. "Just let him go," he met Jake's gaze, trying to foresee his movements.

"You've got to be kidding me," Jake grinned and shook his head, a spiteful yet satisfied gleam sparkled in his eye. "You don't seriously think we're just going to let him go now, do you?" he asked, his tone was condescending. "Let us through, when we get to the jet and we've checked it over, then we'll let him go."

Scott eyed Virgil's obvious distress at the situation in indecision. There was no doubt in his mind that Virgil was in great danger and if there was one thing he hated, it was putting his brother in unnecessary danger. He trusted Virgil more than anything though and at that moment in time, he trusted his brother to communicate his feelings, thereby telling Scott the best course of action.

Sure enough, Virgil looked directly at him, catching Scott's gaze for all of a few seconds. He looked directly into his older brother's blue eyes, hoping to hide the distress in his soul and gave Scott an almost imperceptible shake of the head, silently begging his older brother not to let them use him as a bargaining tool. Not to let them reduce him to this. Scott understood and it showed in his eyes as he offered back a gentle nod. Without saying a word, Virgil illustrated his gratitude through the smallest of smiles and then broke eye contact, turning away. He could only hope Scott understood, not just his desperation to avoid being used as bargaining chip but also, the warning that these men could not be trusted.

There was a pensive silence but, to Scott's surprise, Virgil made no attempt to look at him again, let alone convey any further instructions.

"No," Scott replied to Jake, the certainty in his tone was much greater than that which he felt. He remained unaware that his younger brothers were exchanging horrified glances behind his back. "No, you let him go now," Scott bargained, a little more certain due to the fact that it was what Virgil had instructed. "We're not going to stop you getting to your jet. You have my word. All we care about is getting Virgil back," he looked at Virgil, awaiting his brother to make eye contact but again, he didn't. Instead, he intentionally avoided looking at Scott. Scott frowned in confusion, he desperately needed to know that Virgil still approved and that he was doing the right thing by playing this dangerous game.

Not allowing himself to linger on unwanted thoughts but feeling unease building up inside him, Scott moved to fix his cold stare on Jake.

Jake let out another hollow laugh, "I'm not bartering with you, I'm telling you what's going to happen. This isn't negotiable and you're in no position to be making demands."

"Just let him go," Scott was pleased that his voice was authoritative when it reached his ears, in his head it had sounded more like a plea.

"I said no," Jake pushed the scalpel harder against Virgil's skin, forcing him to bite back a yelp. Not that it mattered, Virgil decided, the jet's engines were making it difficult to hear each other's voices let alone a muffled cry. He was unsure whether he could actually feel a warm trickle running down his neck or whether it was his imagination filling in the gaps. He knew that it would only take one second for Jake to run that scalpel straight across his neck, severing his carotid artery and trachea. He also knew that the man holding the razor sharp blade against the vital network of veins and arteries in his neck would have no qualms about doing so.

Death would be almost instantaneous.

He knew it and Scott knew it too.

"No!" Scott stepped forward, his arm raised in defence. He cursed himself for letting his own anxiety show.

"No, Scott, don't let them get…" Virgil was cut off as Jake pushed a hand against his windpipe, effectively choking him.

"Shut up," Jake growled in Virgil's ear, his tone as menacing as the way the scalpel brushed against Virgil's throat. "One more word…" he threatened.

Virgil remained mute and hoped that Jake understood his compliance. He was pleased when the obstruction against his windpipe was removed and rushed to calm his already rough breathing.

"We've got nothing to lose here," Jake reminded Scott, speaking louder to compensate for the engines in the background. "So what if I lose my temper and kill him? What's another life sentence on top of the one I've already got? You're making me angry and I don't want to lose my temper."

Scott looked to Virgil, whose eyes were fixed on him, wide and brimming with a sense of alarm he couldn't hide. Nervously, Virgil swallowed and with slow, uncertain movements mouthed the words 'won't do it'. There was no doubt in Virgil's mind that he'd done everything he could to warn his brother, he only hoped that Scott understood. Virgil watched, feeling detached and more than a little relieved as his older brother turned his attention back to Jake, who seemed thankfully oblivious to the exchange.

"Let him go," Scott's voice became softer, as he wrongly interpreted Virgil's message that they wouldn't go through with hurting him. "You have my word, you can get to the jet. We're not going to stop you," he nodded, Virgil's predicament forcing a sincere quality to his voice.

Jake hesitated for a few moments and for a few seconds he gave Virgil hope. Only to snatch it back. He tightened his grip on Virgil's arms and took a better hold of the scalpel. Titling his captive's chin back, he exposed Virgil's neck for all for all of them to see. Past the point of resistance, Virgil could only comply, knowing any movement now could be fatal. Besides, his energy to keep fighting was beginning to dissipate. He looked to Scott one last time, pleading with him not to let them win and then he closed his eyes against the despair rising in his gut. He accepted that he'd lost the battle now, his only desire was to spare his brothers the pain of seeing him suffer.

"I meant what I said, I've got nothing to lose," Jake paused to give Scott a chance to change his mind but only silence reigned. "Let me show you how much I meant it," he made a show of pushing Virgil's head to one side with the base of his thumb. As the forceful movement connected with his already bruised jaw, Virgil let out a grunt but he didn't struggle as he felt the scalpel dig into his skin. The moan of pain in the back of his throat was entirely involuntary and he bit his lips together hard to stop a whimper escaping them. "You just let me know when you're ready to let us by," Jake sung in a sickening tone containing a happiness that seemed so depraved.

Scott wasn't sure what was more disturbing: the fact that Virgil seemed so despondent and indifferent to what was happening or the fact that Jake was holding the scalpel so close to his brother's trachea.

"No!" He watched in horror as, with one smooth, fast action, Jake dragged the sharp knife from just under Virgil's jaw, partway across his neck. Scott heard his brothers' gasp and cry out behind him before realising he'd done the exact same thing himself, "Stop!"

There was silence bar the running of the engines and an almost surreal few seconds where the cut skin didn't bleed and then suddenly the blood trickled out, oozing from the wound and creating rivulets down Virgil's neck.

Virgil was sure now that there was definitely something hot and thick trickling down his neck. Slow at first, but the trickles soon felt like rivers and began to sink into his uniform top. He wasn't sure how much of it was him presuming the worst. The information his senses couldn't tell him, his imagination was filling in. He hoped the dampness was sweat, or at least part of it was sweat. Losing that much blood could be fatal if it kept pouring out.

"Let us through," Jake thundered.

"Don't hurt him," Scott swallowed, watching Virgil's blood trickle out with disgust but remembering his brother's words. "Let him go."

Scott felt bile rise to the back of his throat as the sharp blade glinted in the sun and his brother's blood continued to ooze out. He concentrated on preventing his stomach from reacquainting him with the copious amounts of coffee and sole energy bar he'd consumed.

"Are you going to let me reach his carotid artery?" Jake smiled, taking great pleasure in drawing the scalpel slowly across his captive's neck, preparing to cut again. The idea appealed to him a great deal. The wicked sparkle in his eye only brightened and he pushed the scalpel on, initiating some resistance from his captive.

"Don't." Scott said nothing else, partly out of sheer shock, partly out of a belief that Jake wouldn't go through with it.

It would only take one second for Virgil to meet his gaze and beg for freedom in silence. In just the same way he'd silently begged Scott not to let them use him like this. Then, Scott would know. He couldn't explain how he'd know, he just would. He didn't question whether the numbness or detachment he felt, as he watched his brother's blood spilled, would prevent this inexplicable knowledge from surfacing.

"Scott!" Gordon whispered, his tone of voice the epitome of panic.

Virgil could feel the incision trickling warm liquid and his resolve completely shattered. He rolled his eyes towards Scott in an unspoken attempt to convey so many things: gratitude, love, promises of protection.

And there it was, the look that told Scott that his brother had taken just about as much as he could.

The look that only took seconds to pass but would take decades to forget.

Virgil's body language had been a constant but unconscious outward indication to Scott, spelling out the signs of terror and trepidation his brother had been experiencing all along. To Scott's absolute disgust and horror, now his brother's eyes carried that same panic stricken appearance. He could all but smell the fear Virgil was discharging, the vibes were like pressure waves rolling across the space between them and had the power to knock him flat.

The panic was like nothing he'd even seen before. In anyone, let alone in Virgil.

The soulful, wide brown eyes reminded him of the countless people he had seen die in his time. The unique way in which a person's pupils dilated in horror, terror, and several other things that Scott couldn't identify, before all life departed them. Those few precious seconds of sudden realisation before the moment of bitter abruptness when it was all over, leaving only dull eyes and fixed inert expressions where there had once been verve and the sparkle of life.

For a few horrible seconds that was exactly what Scott Tracy saw in his brother. And it scared him more than anything he had ever experienced in his life.

It was a moment that he knew would haunt him forever.

"Stop!" he let out the cry with much more desperation than he'd intended to. "Okay," he conceded with an unhappy nod. "Okay, you can go to the jet but then you release him, all right?"

Jake withdrew the scalpel, leaving an incision in Virgil's neck that was pouring an alarming amount of blood. The blond reprobate looked up at Scott and smiled a menacing, toothy grin. "I'm pleased you came to your senses," he snorted as he pushed Virgil forward.

Virgil released breath he didn't realise he was holding as he was jabbed in the ribs and urged to move in the direction of the jet. Whether it was the recognition that he could breath again, or the painful prod to the ribs he wasn't sure but suddenly his chest was on fire. He fought to fill his lungs with air and began to wonder if this shortness of breath was a physical reaction to the psychological threat or if maybe the beating he'd taken had done more damage internally than he'd thought. His neck was bleeding but he concluded that Jake couldn't have done any major damage in the knowledge that he'd be dead by now, if he had.

Scott frowned, his concern deepening even further as his watched Virgil's chest rise and fall so rapidly that it concealed his brother's shaking. Virgil's struggle to breathe properly and his haggard appearance added to the blood already beginning to stain his shirt, made for grim watching. Scott briefly made eye contact, not having time to comprehend the wide range of things Virgil was trying to tell him.

With clear reluctance, Scott stepped back to let the group make their way to their jet and ordered Alan and Gordon to do the same. He watched them like a hawk though, waiting for any signs that they might not do as they'd said they would.

There wasn't a great distance between the Mole and the jet. The running engines had become part of the background noise now and they'd all become accustomed to shouting to enable their voices to be heard. As the three prisoners reached their destination, Jake turned back to where Scott was advancing.

"Stay back!" he warned, pushing hard against Virgil's throat and causing his captive to cough and choke. The blood still dribbled from the wound on Virgil's neck but Scott was comforted by the decision, as he got closer, that it didn't look as deep as he'd first assumed. He drew hope from the conclusion that Jake hadn't used the whole blade and had only scratched the skin in comparison to the damage he could've done.

Scott stopped and allowed himself a few seconds to regain his composure. He needed to stay calm if they were going to get out of this one unscathed and the importance of doing just that was weighing heavy on his shoulders. He tried telling himself that it wasn't really Virgil at the centre of this hostage situation, bleeding in front of him; that it was just another person they were trying to save. However, one look at the figure in Jake's clutches and his heart was telling him something entirely different. There was no getting away from it, this was personal.

"You're at the jet," Scott stated, keeping his tone soft on purpose, "just let him go." He tried to appear calm but he was fast approaching the unfamiliar feeling of terror that he despised so much.

Jake gestured inside the running aircraft, "Go and check it out, Billy," he ordered. Billy disappeared inside the jet without question, leaving only the other two outside.

"Everything's just like you asked," Scott told Jake. He was pleased that he sounded so calm on the outside. Inside, his gut was churning and the anxiousness in his stomach was like the discomfort that had attempted to drive him to distraction on their first rescue. "Come on," he urged to himself in a quiet mumble, glancing between the growing spot of blood on Virgil's shirt and Jake's hard eyes, "come on, let him go."

"Look at him, he needs medical attention. Let him go," Scott allowed his tongue to voice his thoughts this time. He didn't want to plead but if it meant them releasing Virgil he would try anything. He opened his mouth, prepared to appeal again but Jake's abrupt shake of the head stopped him.

"No," Jake replied. "He's not going anywhere."

Scott's jaw firmed but he held his ground, assuming that Jake wanted to check the jet out. After a few more minutes, Billy reappeared and spoke quietly with Jake before standing to his right.

"Okay, the jet's fine," Jake nodded after what seemed like an eternity. Scott let out a sigh of relief but it was short lived, as the convict continued, "Here's the new plan. We want some security that we're not going to tracked or shot out of the sky once we're airborne. So Virgil, here, is coming on a little adventure with us." Scott was pretty sure his pupil dilation and instinctive shake of the head were exactly what the delinquents were expecting and if anything, they seemed pleased at his reaction. Suddenly the true intention of Virgil's words earlier became clear with sickening clarity. "We'll drop him off somewhere when we're satisfied that we're not being followed and we'll let you know where," Jake told them all.

"No," Scott gritted out. "The deal was you would let Virgil go," he raised an aggressive finger, frustration cursing through him. Frustration that this was happening. Frustration that he'd misread the warning Virgil had tried to provide. Frustration at everything. "Let him go."

"What are you going to do if I don't?" Jake shrugged. His menacing attitude tipped Scott over the edge and in a flash, he raised his gun and aimed it, reaching to take the safety catch off. He didn't get a chance to voice a threat, as Jake began to laugh. A chill ran down Scott's spine and he felt Gordon and Alan's mutual disgust at this man's apathy "You're not going to shoot me," Jake was confident. More so, after he'd pulled Virgil's head alongside his own, grasping at the battered pilot's chin with a rough, callous force. His own hair merged with Virgil's and he forced his face up close. "It's too close," his evil smile was enough to test the patience of a saint. "You'd have to be a bloody good shot to be sure to hit me and not kill your precious agent."

Scott knew he had a valid point, there was no way he could safely take Jake out without a very big possibility of hurting Virgil in the process, or even missing Jake entirely. He would never forgive himself if he shot his brother. He turned his focus in a fraction of a second, pivoting with skill only hours of practice had taught him, so as his gun was facing Billy.

"You won't shoot them either," Jake told him. "Do you realise how quickly I could end Virgil's life?" he asked. His tone was so cold and calculating it made Virgil shiver. The detachment was disturbing but the satisfaction and sheer pleasure he was taking in causing so much pain and misery was frightening. As Virgil felt Jake playing with the blade of the scalpel along his trachea, he was convinced the maniac wouldn't hesitate to carry his threats through. "Just one slip of the wrist and oops!" Jake smirked and jolted his hand on purpose. Virgil gasped and pulled away on instinct but then felt stupid when he realised it had been a sick joke. The deep rumbling of Jake's laughter in his ear appalled him.

If Scott thought the situation was going badly he was about to get a nasty surprise, when he opened his mouth to negotiate further and another voice beat him to it. It took him a few seconds to realise neither Gordon or Alan were speaking.

"Jake, please, he's nothing to do with this," Dr Hunt's voice was clear but cautious and Scott was aghast to see him walking away from the security of their tent with his hands raised. "It's me you're angry at, take me. Let him go, he's only ever helped you."

Of course, he thought he was helping but he was only succeeding in making the situation ten times worse and at the sound of his voice, Scott experienced an overwhelming desire for the ground to just open up and swallow him.

All eyes turned to Dr Hunt in astonishment and then took a few moments to comprehend his stupidity, before widening. Stunned silence would have settled if it hadn't been for the noisy jet engines. It seemed both sides needed time to comprehend the scientist's appearance.

"I told you," Jake bellowed back at Scott after a few minutes. "It was just supposed to be us!" He scoffed, "Huh! And you wanted us to trust you, to take you at your word!" He shook his head, anger causing his cheeks to redden. "Your word's about as good as his!" he gave Virgil a rough push, channelling his fury and causing his captive's shoulders to jerk forwards. They snapped back into position due to Virgil's bound wrists but the pain from the sudden movement was excruciating. Virgil grunted and closed his eyes against the tenderness and the shouting; his head was throbbing.

"Hunt!" Billy exclaimed. Speaking for the first time, his wide eyed anger was centred on where the scientist had exited the red tent under Thunderbird Two. Without flinching, Billy raised Virgil's gun in his hand, "I've been waiting for this a long time," he muttered.

"Billy, no!" Luke's shout was too late and came simultaneously to the sound of a shot being fired.

Years of training and instincts at their rawest told Scott to duck his head down at the sound of fire but Virgil was so startled that Jake had to tighten his grip again to stop him moving. There was a painful grunt from Dr Hunt as the bullet hit with an audible pop. It was followed by a soft thud as the injured scientist fell to his knees grasping his chest. A louder, second thud was heard as he collapsed onto the floor, bleeding and gasping for breath.

Alan, being the closest, rushed to the injured man's side but Billy levelled the gun at the youngest of International Rescue's team. "Don't you dare help him," he growled. "Let him die, he deserves it," Alan just stared at the gun, frozen to the spot and unable to move a muscle. He sat back with his hands raised in a defensive motion, trying to ignore Hunt's desperate gargles for oxygen.

"Okay, so he deserves this," Scott's voice was steady, despite his rapid heartbeat and the anxiety pumping through his veins. "But Virgil doesn't…" he would've gone on, but the rumbling underneath his feet caught him off guard.

The explosion that followed sent him flying through the air.

Scott landed face down on the ground. Wave after wave of solid heat rolled across his back, with enough power to force his body flush against the rough terrain. He turned to see a column of fire lapping the sky from where the Mole's drill hole had been widened.

And as chunks of earth fell to the ground around him, he realised his wish had come true; the ground really had opened up.

XxxxX

Penelope made the mistake of breaking from her reading and looking out the window at the passing scenery as they sped along. Her head spun and her stomach churned simultaneously. She put it down to missing her customary breakfast, though she'd never quite mastered the art of reading and travelling either. It had always made her ill, even as a small child.

With a soft sigh, she leant forward and retrieved a small tin from one of the many concealed pockets in the back of Parker's chair. Opening it with her usual, delicacy so as not to damage her manicured nails, she took out one of the small pills and placed it underneath her tongue. She waited a few moments for the potion to do its work. Sure enough, it began to fizz and release a taste of strawberry. Allowing herself a moment away from the file in her lap, Penelope sat back in her seat and savoured the taste. It wasn't the breakfast she was accustomed to but she was sure Brains' anti-sickness pills would cure her nausea.

She remembered the day Brains had shown her the results. She'd been complaining that when she travelled she could do nothing but sit there. If nothing else, Lady Penelope was sharp as a tack and travel sickness pills always made her weary. Virgil had suggested the strawberry flavouring, in the knowledge that it was one of her favourites. Something that they had in common.

The results were instant and she looked out of the windows once more, feeling a little steadier in her examination of the greenery that flew past. She didn't allow herself to think too long of Virgil, it wouldn't be productive of her to drown herself in thoughts of sympathy.

"I say, Parker," she coughed to clear her throat. "Where exactly are we?"

Parker looked at her through the rear view mirror and raised his chin, compensating for the rim on his cap. "Begging your pardon, M'Lady, h'I've tak'n the liberty of h'err taking h'a few shortcuts," he explained, "h'I was 'oping to get more speed out of 'er."

"I see," Penelope nodded. "How far away are we from the optimum tracking area John advised?"

"H'about 'alf an 'our, M'Lady," he advised.

Penelope seemed satisfied and nodded, "Very well," she muttered. "Bring up the signal from the tracking device_,"_ she instructed. "I think it would be prudent to keep an eye on our friends."

Parker did as she requested. The back of his seat slid to one side revealing a screen of moderate proportions and before long a small red dot began to flash, indicating where the jet was. "Hmm," Penelope smiled. "It seems the villains haven't attempted to make their escape yet," she said to herself as she studied the stationary red dot. "And at what speed are we travelling now_?"_

A quick glance at his controls and Parker responded, "Two 'undred and thirteen miles p'r 'our, M'Lady."

"Excellent," Penelope made her approval known. A quick flash caught her attention and she swivelled in her chair to look behind them, trying to establish its origin. "Oh, Parker!" she sighed and turned back to him with a deep frown. "Do try to slow down for the cameras; yet another speeding fine would be most exasperating."

Parker raised his eyebrows and let out a trite response, "Yes, M'Lady."

He stopped himself from pointing out that most of the speed cameras on these back roads had been vandalised years ago. Only a few remained operational now and of those, most just emitted warning flashes. Of course, he grumbled to himself, at the pace they were travelling no speed camera would have been quick enough to get a decent photograph anyway. Still, he was on high alert as he pushed FAB1 to its full capacity.

XxxxX

As the chunks of earth fell down about him like rain, Scott tried to look around. The dust cloud attacked his eyes though, and he found himself tucking his head under his arm until it had subsided. When he could make out figures through the intense haze of dirt, he coughed and struggled onto all fours. A quick glance in one direction and he saw Alan dragging a wounded Dr Hunt into the tent, with the help of Ned Cook. Scott searched for Gordon, squinting against the powdery earth that swirled about in the air in front of him.

"Gordon," he coughed, as he caught sight of his brother's distinct orange sash.

Gordon lay on the ground about two metres away. To begin with he was still but then Scott realised he was moving and thanked their lucky stars. He watched with a sense of disconnection as Alan ran back to his aquanaut brother and pulled him to his feet. He found himself wondering if Gordon had been knocked out by the explosion.

"Virgil!" he exclaimed as memory returned in a blur. With a great deal of urgency, he turned to face the other direction. He was dismayed to catch sight of two boots, familiar in colour, being dragged inside the jet. Scott was relieved by the way Virgil was kicking out and thrashing around, at least it meant he was unharmed by the explosion. Bit by bit, his mind began slotting the jigsaw pieces his eyes were showing him into place and he stumbled to his feet, realising that the convicts were about to make their exit. The ground came up to meet him on either side but he pushed the wooziness back. Never mind Gordon, he wondered if _he'd_ been knocked out by the explosion. He didn't have time for it though. "No!" he whispered as he pushed himself on.

"Virgil!" he knew the cry was futile; there was no way Virgil would ever hear him. But it was the only release he had for his pent up frustration and despair.

He ran towards the jet, his heart constricting in horror as he realised he wouldn't make it. His legs carried him fast, but the jet was moving away faster and there was no way on earth he could keep up with it. In the end, he had to back down, the heat from the engines was too much for him and as all he could do was watch as they disappeared into the sky.

"No!" he shook his head in disbelief. The short run and emotional exertion had left him exhausted and he doubled over, gasping in quick breathes. Raising his hands to his face, he buried his fingers deep into his dark curls, nails digging into his scalp in frustration.

It was only when he pulled his hand away that he realised his head was bleeding.

XxxxX

Back in FAB1, Lady Penelope was distracted from her reading, as the red flashing dot on her screen began to move. "Well, Parker, it seems those scoundrels are on the move," she commented. "I'll keep an eye on them, you continue on the course you'd already planned."

"Very g'd, M'Lady," Parker nodded from his position in the driving seat.

"In the meantime, I think we should contact Thunderbird Five," she decided as she reached forward. Attempting to open the link was unsuccessful, she tried a second time but received the same response. "That's strange," lines appeared on her smooth forehead. "John isn't answering," she paused.

"P'rhaps he's busy, Madame?" Parker suggested.

"Hmm," Penelope mumbled, unconvinced. "Lady Penelope, England, calling International Rescue Head Quarters."

"Penelope," Jeff's image appeared and she smiled, despite her surprise at his tired appearance. "How's it going? Have you got anything?" he asked. The anxiousness in his voice and the haggard expression he sported only attested his worry for his second eldest son's predicament.

"Well, Parker and I are tracking the jet as we speak, it's making slow progress. I tried to get in touch with John, but there was no answer." She frowned again, "Is everything quite alright?"

"I think so," Jeff's frown matched hers. "I spoke to John just a few minutes ago and everything was fine. Maybe he's busy. I'll try to get hold of Scott," he decided. "Don't let that jet off your scanner, Penny, it's imperative we catch up with these guys," he said, his resolve steadfast. "They're not going to get away with this, if it's the last thing I do they'll get what's coming to them."

Unsure how else to respond to such an adamant pledge, Penelope just nodded and concentrated on the job at hand. If there was one thing she knew about Jeff Tracy, it was that the threats would not be left hollow.

XxxxX

Scott nearly barrelled into Alan as he stormed across to the tent, in no mood to be messed with. He was angry. Angry that the crooks had managed to get away, even angrier that they'd taken Virgil with them, and angrier still at the explosion that had rocked them.

"Scott!" Alan cried, narrowly avoiding tripping over his older brother. "What happened? Where's Virgil?" he asked. "Is he okay?"

"Alan, deal with Hunt!" Scott ordered, ignoring Alan's other questions.

"But Scott…" Alan began to question him but the older brother turned an irate gaze on him.

"Now!" Scott thundered, the frustration was really bubbling to the surface and he glared until Alan scurried across to the injured scientist. Aided by Ned, he set about providing some much needed medical assistance.

Turning inside the tent, Scott realised that Gordon was sat in the seat at Mobile Control, talking on the radio. He just caught the tail end of the conversation as he approached.

"Sure, John, he's here right now," Gordon said, his tone became apprehensive when he spotted Scott's expression.

"Is that John?" Scott balked.

"I'll get some dicetylene on that…" Gordon didn't finish, he was taken aback when Scott shoved him out of the way. Resolving to extinguish Scott's anger before the fire, Gordon decided he'd be of better use staying.

Without waiting for conformation, Scott pushed his way in to the control seat, ready to address the astronaut on the screen. Barely allowing himself the time to breathe, he didn't take in John's already defeated and guilty expression, and launched into a tirade. "Damnit John! You told me that fire was contained!" John opened his mouth to defend himself, but he wasn't quick enough and Scott's harangue continued. "If it's so contained, maybe you've got another explanation for the twenty feet high column of flames out there!"

"Scott …" John tried again, unsuccessful in his attempt to stop his irate brother.

"I thought you were monitoring it!" Scott growled.

"I was! If you'd just let me explain!" John's own voice rose in order to be heard.

"Guys!" Gordon looked between his brothers, frankly surprised at the pair of them.

"Explain!" Scott cried, "Try explaining to Virgil how we let them get away, we let them take him!"

"I don't have to listen to this. Call me when you've calmed down," John mumbled before the screen winked out, leaving the customary International Rescue insignia in its place.

A tension filled silence followed.

Scott turned to Gordon and tried to bite back his anger. Truth be known, he wasn't angry with John. Well that wasn't strictly true; he was angry with John but not to the extent that he'd just demonstrated. He was frustrated by the situation and irate about how it had all unfolded… out of his control. "Are you hurt?" Scott asked, remembering seeing his aquanaut brother on the floor after the explosion. He was surprised at the way Gordon studied him, he seemed stunned.

The aquanaut managed to shake his head but Scott's unprofessional outburst had shocked him into a rare state of silence. Gordon felt the pressure of this rescue as much as his other brothers and he accepted Scott would be finding this difficult but he still expected his brother to be the same cool, calm, quick-thinking leader he always was.

They'd made mistakes before when they'd been out on rescues, but he'd always managed to refrain from chastising them until the operation was over. In addition, it had never been in public but instead, always in the privacy of their own rooms or at least Scott's office.

Gordon swallowed and watched Scott deflate with wide, uncertain eyes. It was evidence that these last twenty four hours had had a massive affect on his brother and for the first time since they'd arrived Gordon began to comprehend just what it'd been like. The frustration was the worst part, being so close yet so far away from making any progress or being able to offer any meaningful physical help.

Deep down, Gordon couldn't blame Scott for exploding after the pressure he'd been under but he was also aware that John was questioning himself already. Scott tearing strips off him was the last thing any of them needed. "Was that err…" he paused, clearing his throat and feeling uncertain as to whether he should question Scott at all. "Do you think he really deserved that?" he asked. The apprehension he felt was augmented by his brother's silence. Scott took in a deep breath and then let it out again in silent acceptance of what the younger man was saying. Gordon's calm voice broke through his waning anger. "He was cut up about it already without you reprimanding him like that," he pushed gently.

"I know that," Scott sighed, reaching a hand up to the bridge of his nose. In truth, he'd underestimated just how much John was punishing himself and he knew it. Nevertheless, John's mistake had caused a massive explosion, he felt justified in his admonishment and he was prepared to voice those feelings, "But he screwed up. I'm the commander here; you're not going to make me feel guilty for giving him a dressing down." Gordon debated whether what Scott had just done was a 'dressing down', but kept the thoughts to himself. "You, of all people should understand that, Gordon. He made a mistake," Scott was adamant that he wouldn't back down despite the nagging feeling in his gut that John had just provided the perfect outlet for all his anxiety and anger.

"Yeah, he's not the only one." Gordon replied.

Scott's head shot up and he turned to face Gordon. The fading fury in his eyes was reignited in a second and the blue orbs flashed with a dangerous rage. "What the hell is that supposed to mean?" he demanded. He didn't need an answer though, he knew exactly what Gordon was referring to; the questions he'd disregarded at the planning stage of the operation. "Did you see the look on Virgil's face? Did you see what he said? He didn't want me to back down! I didn't think they'd go through with hurting him like that! And I had no reason to think they'd even try to take Virgil with them!" he found himself pointing a finger at Gordon in a defensive gesture. "They just wanted to escape, Virgil's no use to them now! Why would they take him?" Scott heaved yet another sigh but Gordon didn't move. Silence settled for a good few seconds before he turned an angry glare on his aquanaut brother. "Don't you have a fire to be putting out?"

"I was on my way but the fire isn't an immediate threat and you…" once more, Gordon didn't finish the sentence.

"I what?" Scott bellowed, "I didn't tell you? You've got a brain, Gordon, use it!"

Scott slumped back in his seat as the rage was suddenly replaced by a hollow emptiness. Exhausted by the outburst, he dropped his head, unsure what to feel anymore.

Gordon watched in apprehension. He understood Scott's need to shout and scream and he knew his older brother didn't mean it. It was just the way Scott was when he was frustrated and there was definitely cause for him to feel valid frustration right now. "I wasn't going to say that…" Gordon said in a soft tone. "I was going to say that you're hurt, are you all right?" he asked as he studied the bruise already forming on Scott's hairline.

"I'm fine, it's nothing." Scott shrugged his concern away. "I should call John and talk to Alan. Go and put that fire out," he ordered. The soft tone he used conveyed an apology that Gordon was willing to accept and the aquanaut nodded, understanding the strain Scott felt as he continued. "Then I've got to explain all this to base, before I get on to Penelope and find out where the jet's heading."

Scott leaned forward to access one of the control consoles in front of him but Gordon caught his arm, "Wait a sec." He studied Scott's forehead closely and the trickle of blood that gravity was pulling down his brother's face. "This needs attention, you're bleeding," he observed.

"Yeah," a forgotten voice came from the other side of the make-shift room and both Scott and Gordon turned to face Alan, "he's not the only one…"

XxxxX

Virgil's return to consciousness was very slow, he was unaware he'd even passed out again. Taking a few moments to piece together what had happened, he found his memory unwilling. The pain had increased considerably and he tried to focus on his body. However, his vision was still too blurred. He sat back and let the nausea and giddiness churn within him.

Listening to the conversation around him, he managed to pick out words and half sentences…

"….and now we've done it…"

"…don't need him anymore anyway….deserves to pay…."

"…can't, it's not fair…"

"… got what we want… he's a liability…."

"…promised them we wouldn't… can't just leave him to die…"

"… won't be traced back to us…."

"…leave him somewhere remote, he'll be dead before they find him…"

Frowning in confusion, Virgil moved and let out a groan. Pain cursed through his veins like waves on a beach. He was surprised to find his hands were no longer bound and for a few brief seconds, he wondered if his brothers had managed to rescue him. His thinking however, was still muddled and soon reality kicked back in and the heartbreaking realisation hit that he was still in the middle of this horrendous situation. Managing to roll painfully onto one side, he was horrified when he caught sight of his arms and found the explanation for his pain.

Blood.

Lots of blood.

He tried to discover where it was coming from and brought his arms closer. His vision focused on the red streams that covered the limbs. There were large gashes down the inside of his wrists. The blood was seeping out and Virgil forced himself to dredge through his medical knowledge. It wasn't flowing fast enough to mean they'd hit anything major but the cuts were deep enough for him to lose a significant amount of blood. He could flex his fingers successfully, so no nerve damage he concluded as he put his right hand over the incision on his left wrist. The idea was to put some pressure there and stop the blood flow but it only succeeded in forcing more blood through his fingers. His attempt to stop the bleeding seemed futile. His stomach churned as he realised that between his wrists, his neck and the lack of any chance of prompt medical help, there was a very real possibility that he might bleed to death.

Taking deep breaths, he tried to stop himself panicking. Was he shaking? Was he in shock already? How much blood had he lost? He looked around him as the questions swirled round his head.

It's not that much he convinced himself. What was it he told rescue victims? A little bit of blood goes a long way, and it was true. Blood was like oil - a little seemed a lot…

He hoped.


	8. Chapter 8

_**In Too Deep – Chapter Eight**_

From the cockpit of Thunderbird Two, Gordon could make out Scott loading the final parts of Mobile Control into Thunderbird One in a frenzy. Gordon eyed the pilot's chair with distaste. Despite being Virgil's co-pilot, it still felt surreal to be sliding into the leather seat. Virgil's seat.

"Cockpit from Sickbay, we're ready, Gordon," Alan's voice was crystal clear. Gordon noted the lack of emotion and knew that his younger brother was dealing with things the only way he knew how. Throughout their lives there had been many times when they'd looked to their older brothers for an example of how to react or behave in a situation and Gordon didn't doubt that this was one of those times. A time when Scott's glowing example was to be followed without hesitation: the job at hand came first, your emotional reaction to it came second.

Gordon adopted that same tone as he reached for the internal communications panel, "FAB," he responded, "Stand by for vertical take off."

Uncomfortable behind the controls of the giant transporter, Gordon took a deep breath and began the flying process that he wished he'd practiced more often. Simulators weren't the same, no matter how accurate Brains made them and Virgil was always so reluctant to let anyone else behind the controls.

Every time he found himself in a position where he had to fly Two, he made a new resolve to spend more time in the simulator or out with Virgil. Yet, Thunderbird Four needed maintaining and as ridiculous as it sounded, he always had something he needed to do. Somehow, once the immediate threat was over, the renewed resolve faded.

It wasn't that he was incapable of flying her by any means. He was proficient, he just didn't like doing it. His father had told him when he was learning to drive that avoiding the things you didn't like doing just made them harder when you're forced to do them. The truth of that sentence was never more evident than when he found himself in Two's control seat.

This time he would spend more time with Virgil, he told himself. He could never be as good as Virgil, but he could try to familiarise himself a bit more with the procedures so that at times like this, when the adrenaline was already rushing, he wouldn't feel the apprehension of flying. Of course, he knew the root of the problem hadn't anything to do with his capabilities in Thunderbird Two. The reason he felt so agitated when he got behind Two's controls had nothing to do with being familiar with the procedures or being capable of flying her. It was because, nine times out of ten, the very reason he was there was because Virgil was incapacitated in some way and that alone was grounds to be agitated in his book.

As the motors powered up, he felt the vibrations flow through him. This was Virgil's job, his head was telling him, but his hands moved across the controls in a smooth motion as if the thought had never occurred. A brief fire of the VTOL jets and he felt the weight of the steering change as the green giant rose into the skies above.

Hand on heart, he couldn't say that the idea of taking over from Virgil permanently hadn't crossed his mind. It was a notion that shook him to the very core but also one that he couldn't ignore. He was thankful for Scott's incoming call to distract him.

"Thunderbird Two from Thunderbird One." Gordon sighed and flicked a switch to open communications with his brother. The exhaustion in Scott's voice was mutual, as much as the worry and anger.

"Go ahead, Scott," Gordon replied, shaking himself from his thoughts and concentrating on his flying instead.

"How's Hunt?" Gordon doubted Scott was at all concerned about the scientist and put the call down to his brother wanting to hear a friendly voice more than anything. Or even more likely was the idea that Scott was feeling a little guilty for his outburst earlier.

"Hunt's stable," Gordon reported. "Alan's back in the sickbay with him and Cook, now. How's it going your end?"

There was an audible sigh, "I'm just about to lift off. I'll contact Penny for an update on the jet's position but I can't get too close, they'll pick me up." Gordon looked at his older brother, about to suggest that he contact John instead of Penelope but Scott continued. "As soon as you've dropped Hunt at the hospital and rendezvoused with Cook's cameraman, let me know. With a bit of luck, we'll have retrieved Virgil by then and we'll all be heading home but if not, I might need your help."

"Yeah," Gordon nodded. "Lady Luck hasn't exactly been shining on us so far, has she?" he asked.

Scott shrugged a smile, "You can say that again." His tone was sad and low. So many thoughts were swirling around his head, it was a wonder that he knew which one to evaluate first.

Gordon, of course, was right. Luck did seem to have deserted them.

They had played death against Lady Luck continuously since International Rescue had been up and running and Lady Luck had always come through for them. Sometimes in the nick of time, with only mere seconds to spare, but she'd always won out in the end. Scott wondered if that reliance, that blind sense of belief in the element of luck had forced them into a false sense of security. They weren't superheroes and they weren't infallible, though it sometimes felt like it. They made mistakes like every other person on the planet. Only in their job, mistakes cost lives. Had his mistake today, in underestimating the hostage takers, cost Virgil his life?

They were just ordinary men doing an extraordinary job and for the first time since International Rescue began, Scott felt the vulnerability of being inadequate. They had never failed each other when one of them was in trouble. Yet now, when the rescue had become personal, they were facing a very real possibility of making history. Scott had to doubt whether Lady Luck would come through for them this time.

She was cutting it mighty fine if she did.

XxxxX

Penelope had kept a close eye on the red flashing dot indicating the jet's progress as it travelled across the country. As the moving marker slowed down, she frowned, "According to the tracker, the jet has slowed," she told Parker. "I suggest we change our course, Parker," she looked up, briefly catching his gaze.

"Very good, M'Lady," Parker responded. "Where h'exactly h'are they?"

"Reference…" Penelope paused to trace two fingers along the screen in front of her. "Yankee Uniform nine two three, slash four Foxtrot Alpha," she announced.

"Foxtr't h'Alpha M'Lady?" Parker queried. "H'isn't that h'in the Yorkshire Dales?"

"Yes, Parker," Penelope nodded. "I believe it is. I wonder what exactly the fuel problems with this jet entailed, I think I had better contact John. It may explain their sudden deceleration." She reached forward to the communications console and opened the appropriate channel. "Lady Penelope, England, calling Thunderbird Five, come in please," she called in her usual delicate and unflappable tones.

"Thunderbird Five, go ahead, Penelope," John appeared on her screen, still looking a little too pale for her liking.

"John," Penelope began. "It seems that our jet has slowed over the Yorkshire Dales. I wonder if this sudden decline in speed could be to do with the fuel problems you mentioned earlier?"

John shook his head, "No, I doubt it," he frowned. "They shouldn't be running out already and that jet has a flight time of a couple more hours before it'll need servicing." He was distracted as he verified the information for himself, "Hold up, Penelope, they're on the move again. Maybe they were distracted by something," John suggested. "I've been keeping an ear out for anyone noticing them and I haven't heard anything as yet. Could just be that they're avoiding being detected."

"Okay, John, I can see they're on the move now. Parker and I will continue to track them," she nodded. "Can you tell from their positioning if they are proceeding towards Newcastle? At present we are slightly ahead of them."

"I can do better than that, Penelope, hold on two minutes," John's mumbling and other radio chatter could be heard in the background. "Okay," John retuned. "I've just picked up a secure radio transmission between the jet and an Air Traffic Controller at City Airport in Newcastle."

"That wouldn't happen to be Terrence Balder would it?" Penelope asked with a raised eyebrow.

John shot her an inquisitive frown, "Well, his name was Terry but I'm just running a…" he trailed off as he looked away from the screen. "There's a Terrence Balder on the employee list, yeah," John nodded, surprised that Penelope's guess was so accurate. He looked up at her, expecting her to explain further.

"Just a little hunch of mine," she smiled. "Call it female intuition, if you will. Now, tell me, John, what precisely was the conversation about?" Penelope's eyes were wide with anticipation.

"Well," John told her, "some place called Ferryhill, I think. I'll send coordinates through to Parker; there's an old, unused air base there. Apparently it was an RAF base but the Navy used it as a training center during the war. I'll bet that McConnell used it when he was in the service. According to what I've just heard," he frowned at her again, "they're going to dump the jet there and then travel to an airport at Sedgefield. That's all I know," John shrugged. "Do you still have them on radar?"

"Yes," Penelope nodded. "Could anyone else have heard the message, John?"

"No," the blond astronaut shook his head. "It was a secure frequency."

"Very well," Penelope gave him what she hoped was a reassuring smile, "we shall continue to follow them."

"FAB," John replied anxiously. "I'll keep you informed of any further developments," he nodded as he signed off and sat back with a sigh. Allowing himself a moment or two to build up the courage to contact Scott, he pondered over how Penelope knew Balder worked at the airport.

XxxxX

Back in the jet, Virgil's head swam. He blinked his eyes open, trying to steady his vision but it didn't seem to have any effect. Raised voices from the cockpit caused the pounding pain in his head to explode and with a groan, he allowed his eyes to close again.

Big mistake.

He was soon floating back to the luxury of a darkness he couldn't afford and forced himself back to reality. With a grunt, he rolled over onto his side. The pain the movement caused to shoot up and down his back was enough for his eyes to snap open. The realisation that the slick texture of the metal floor he was sliding on was due to his own blood brought reality back with brutal force.

Now on his side, he could see a door ahead of him, slightly ajar. One leg protruded, he recognised the dark blue material as the colour that all three of his captors had been clad in. He wondered which one of them it was, not that it mattered, their attention was in the cockpit so he was safe. For now.

Virgil took stock of himself and his surroundings. Bringing his wrists up in front of his face, he digested what his eyes were telling him. Dribbles of bright red blood were still making tracks down his arms and onto the floor from the gashes to his wrists. Not good, he decided. He reasoned that Jake must be responsible. Billy was flying and from what he'd gleaned, it didn't seem Luke's style.

Letting his head drop forward onto the floor, he squeezed his eyes closed against the turmoil inside. The pain was less prominent now. Not that it had decreased by any means, but it was becoming a normal part of him. He was acclimatising to the agony any movement was causing.

Breathing came in gasps. He bit his lips together in an effort to stifle the sobs that wracked his chest, further accentuating his shortness of breath. He felt so weak, drained of everything. Over the last few hours, he felt like the life had been sucked from him. It was ironic that now all he could do was watch as what was left leaked out onto the floor.

"God," he gasped out, trying hard to control himself. He tried to swallow but there was nothing there and he choked. Now it had come to it, he realised the main flaw in his attitude towards death -- he didn't _want_ to die. That thought struck him over and over again. The same way an axe hit a tree trunk, breaking it down inch by inch with steady persistence.

Disorder ruled his thoughts; he didn't want to die, he told himself again, but it was so easy. So easy to roll back and give in. It wasn't as if he hadn't tried to fight against it, and he was just so tired. So tired of fighting. Fighting his captors. Fighting his fear. Fighting his fate?

By taking him with them, the three prisoners had given him back hope that he might make it out alive. His brothers wouldn't let him go without a fight and he was prepared for that, to go down fighting. But it had all gone so wrong. The explosion had given them the ideal chance to escape. Virgil could only pray that no one had been hurt, his heart fluttered with anxiety as he remembered seeing his brothers hit the ground.

Now, as he lay on the floor, bleeding, there was only one thing to be certain of -- that hope was eluding him.

He had to snap out of this. He knew that, deep down, by giving up he was stepping out onto a slippery slope that would only lead to one thing.

Death.

He closed his eyes and took in a deep breath but it hurt and he coughed it back out again. When he opened his eyes again, they fixed on something in the distance.

Something yellow. Something familiar.

He blinked and frowned until the object came into focus a bit better. His sash. Not so yellow now, a little blood spattered and grubby but still identifiable. However, it wasn't the grubby yellow or the blood smatterings that had caught Virgil's attention, it was the protruding insignia.

An outstretched hand protecting the world.

It was who he was. What he stood for. And the principle behind their whole organisation? Never give up, at any cost.

He cleared his head with a shake. The realisation was almost as painful in his heart as the pulsating throbbing of his wrists. What was he doing? He couldn't give up. He was International Rescue. He just couldn't.

Determination renewed, Virgil rolled over on to his back. Breathing through gritted teeth, he let out the odd grunt as he pushed back the pain barriers a little further. His eyes rested on the survival kit on the opposite wall. He tried to sit up. The blood slicked floor under his elbows and the weakness in his limbs combined to make the task nearly impossible and he just succeeding in slipping about. As he put more pressure on his arms, he was horrified to see the lacerations that had been inflicted whilst he was unconscious ooze more. His whole body began to shake with the effort it was taking him but he set his brow in a determined frown.

He succeeded in raising himself off the floor but it was only seconds before he collapsed in a heap again, battling for breath. Raw strength had always been an asset he was proud of. He could be relied on to be strong and sturdy, he was known for it. But it seemed that now, when he truly needed that sheer force, it was failing him.

If only he had the energy to reach it. If only his battered body wasn't hampering him. But 'if onlys' were not much use to him.

Accepting that the task was futile, he allowed himself to settle back on the floor with a painful groan and decided on a more in depth assessment of his injuries. The blood was still seeping form his wounds in a slow and intermittent flow. He had enough medical knowledge to know that it wasn't fatal but that it would be if he didn't get help in the next few hours.

He allowed himself a few minutes to recover, surprised at how tiring thinking had become.

As he took a few moments to summon up the energy he needed in order to try to move again, the shouting from the cockpit got louder.

"Then what am I going to do?" Luke could be identified as the one speaking and Virgil could tell by his tone that he was angry. He wouldn't put it past the other two to double cross him and his thoughts were substantiated by the next voice.

"I don't care what you do!" Billy returned. "We're going to Ferryhill and after that, you're on your own."

"First, we've got to get rid of him." Listening from the outside, Virgil didn't doubt that he was the subject of the pensive silence that followed.

"Well, I think Jake's plan's ridiculous," Luke was bold enough to break the silence. "We can't just leave him to die and we can't kill him. I don't see why we can't just call International Rescue and drop him off somewhere."

"I bloody can!" the plane jolted as Billy replied, distracted by the absurdity of the suggestion. "He knows too much, so Jake's right, he's got to go. The question is how."

"But he doesn't…"

"Doesn't matter anyway," Jake scoffed and though his words were muffled, Virgil took the time to frown and listen out for an explanation. "I've already sorted it," Jake declared.

"Sorted it?"

"Yeah, it's done." There was a definite element of glee in the tone.

There was a silence and Virgil's gaze fell on the emergency hatch. He entertained the idea that perhaps his best bet was to jump, parachute or no parachute it seemed a much better option than staying around. The sinister undertone to the conversation he was hearing from the cockpit was stirring the remaining adrenaline in his system.

"What have you done?" Luke's tone replied from inside the cockpit, full of hatred and suspicion.

There was a commotion, muffled only by the door that had swung closed during their squabbling. Virgil suspected that Billy had abandoned his controls to join in as the jet lurched to one side in a violent manoeuvre that sent the injured pilot sprawling across the floor.

The banging and crashing from the cockpit was punctuated by a cry of 'Billy!' before the jet seemed to be brought under some semblance of control again. It levelled out and Virgil let out a sigh of relief. He'd only just released the exhaustion-fuelled breath when the cockpit door flew open. The bang of the door bouncing off the metal caused him to jump and squeeze his eyes shut in anticipation. For a second, it sounded just like a gun shot and he expected pain or burning. His head was pounding.

"Luke, just leave it!" Jake's angry shout from his left, brought an ominous shadow to Virgil's attention. It seemed to loom over him and as he cracked an eye open, unsurprised to see Luke looking down on him, horrified.

"What have you done?" Luke's eyes flicked between Virgil and Jake who stood in the doorway. The anger and horror was clear, for even Virgil to see from his place on the floor. It was the second time Luke had asked the question but he hadn't received a reply on either occasion.

Jake rolled his eyes and shook his head in a gesture of disgust. "You know what?" he said after a pause to look Luke up and down. "I don't care what you do, Lukey Boy, the damage has been done now and there ain't nothing you can do about it. He's more or less dead already." With that, he glared down at Virgil and closed the door to the cockpit with a slam, sliding the lock home.

Luke knelt down alongside Virgil. "Jake shouldn't have done this," he commented as his eyes traversed Virgil's body. His gaze lingered on Virgil's neck, before shifting to meet his stare. "Tell me what to do."

Virgil hesitated for a few moments, unsure whether there was anything he could do. "Survival kit," he found his voice, but was surprised that it sounded so dry and rough. "On the wall," he nodded his head. "Should be a first aid kit…. Need pressure to stop the bleeding."

Luke nodded and jumped to his feet, prying the box away from its fittings and bringing it back to the floor. He opened it and let the top fall back down with a bang. Virgil winced. "Sorry," Luke muttered as he took out several sterile dressings and placed them in the dry lid. Firstly, he placed two pressure pads on Virgil's wrists, holding one in place whilst Virgil held the other. He then picked up some cotton wool with his free hand and eyed the antiseptic, "This is going to really hurt."

For the second time in the space of twenty four hours, he went about dressing the wounds his companions had inflicted on the man who had saved their lives.

XxxxX

"Thunderbird One from Thunderbird Five," the hail didn't come with the same confidence it usually did.

In Thunderbird One's cockpit Scott almost winced at the tone. Maybe he had been too harsh earlier, he thought. John had at least deserved a few minutes to explain what had happened. He berated himself, but then forced the events out of his mind; they were both far too busy to deal with it. Scott hoped his brother would accept that. Right now, they had bigger problems to solve.

"Go ahead, John," he adopted his calmest, nicest voice. "How's Penelope getting on?"

For a few seconds once John's image had appeared, Scott wondered if the conversation was going to be awkward. A few embarrassing moments passed during which they eyed each other, trying to determine how they should both proceed.

John coughed uncomfortably, "Umm … yeah, uh, Penelope's tracking the jet now. It's over Yorkshire." He paused and tried to estimate if Scott was still angry or not. The tension in the air added to the strain of the situation and the last thing John wanted was to make it even worse. He bit his tongue. "I've been keeping an ear on the jet's radio transmissions and I picked up a message on a secure frequency about ten minutes ago. It seems they're heading towards a place called Ferryhill. Then they're planning to go across to Sedgefield." John sighed, "I sent the references for the preliminary locations to you."

Scott glanced over the controls, confirming the information with a nod. "Thanks." His smile was genuine. "Will you send me over the exact co-ordinates when you get a firm fix on them?"

"Sure," John nodded.

"Did they say anything about Virgil on the radio?" Scott asked, eager for any news his brother could provide.

"No," John shook his head, feeling a little disappointed that he couldn't provide the hope Scott needed. "But I'll be able to pinpoint him easily now I have his ETD to track too," he added, trying to lighten the otherwise dark situation.

Scott looked up at him, surprised. "Virgil's ETD was triggered?"

"Yeah," John replied. "That's what I was trying to tell you earlier. I was getting a fix on it so as I could track it when…" he trailed off. Scott was prepared to brush the episode under the carpet for now and he didn't want to reignite past anger.

"Oh," was Scott's contrite reply.

There were a few more seconds of discomfited silence over the air waves, before Scott went on. "Alan and Gordon are taking Dr. Hunt to a hospital in Hereford," he informed his blond brother. "It didn't look too good though. They're going to deal with Cook too, then I've told them to await orders," Scott relayed. "I might need their help."

"Well, like I told Gordon earlier," John responded. "The dicetylene worked on the fire. It wasn't registering heat or smoke when you left. It still isn't. Maybe we should have tried that from the start."

Scott shook his head, "We can't afford to waste materials like that. We thought it would burn out. Does Base have an explanation for what happened?"

"Brains seemed to think that the Mole was acting as a plug," John explained. "There was a delay because the fire wasn't directly near the drill hole. It was behind a closed door, but he seemed to think it sucked the air in and then that in turn caused an explosion." He endeavoured to simplify the version that Brains had explained to him, aware that Scott wouldn't appreciate the technicalities. "It's a long shot. To me, it seems a bit unlikely but it's the only thing he could think of to explain why I didn't get some kind of warning."

"Yeah, well, it doesn't really matter now," Scott shrugged, a little off hand but John just bit his lip and ignored it. "The fire's out and by the time Alan and Gordon have managed to get Hunt to a hospital and then dealt with Ned Cook, it'll all be over and we'll all be heading home."

John raised his eyebrows, wondering if Scott truly believed that. He knew his brother wasn't that naïve.

Scott sat back, glancing over the controls even though he knew he didn't need to. He heaved a sigh under the astronaut's scrutiny, "Penny and I can handle this. Right now, Gordon and Alan are busy. We couldn't just leave Cook or Hunt." His tone bordered on defensive but, again, John ignored it for the sake of saving another confrontation and Scott moved on. "Do we have any agents in the area?"

John took a moment to gather the data, "Yeah, David Bell, agent 314. I'd anticipated you asking that and I've

contacted him. I'm sending the details now." He paused to turn away and attend to control consoles, "I told him that he might be needed, so he's on standby. Do you want me to update him?"

Scott nodded his appreciation at John's foresight. "Tell him I'll be landing in his back yard in about three minutes."

John had to smirk. "Okay, he'll be able to keep Thunderbird One safe. What then? Are you going to head to Ferryhill?"

"Yeah," Scott sighed. "You checking to make sure I can land safely at 314's?" They second guessed each other's movements with well practiced ease.

"Hang on," John cut him off, turning to the screens around him. "Okay, 314 has a farm outside of Ferryhill. You can land there, and he has a vehicle you can use. Same drill as when we were monitoring the Fireflash 3, okay?"

"Yeah," Scott nodded. "That should do it, as long as there's cover for One."

There was another silence, but this time it was more settled. John was about to sign off when he remembered, "Oh, before I forget," he began. "Dad's been trying to get hold of you."

"I've been kind of busy, what with Hunt and Cook," Scott replied. "I'll call him in a minute. I'm approaching Bell's farm now."

"That was quick," John commented, he wondered just how close Scott had been to the area when the conversation had started or even if he'd searched for 314 himself so as he knew where he was going. "Scott," he warned. "take it easy, huh? We want these guys alive." He didn't want to think about what would happen if Scott was left alone with these prisoners. There had been the inevitable arguments growing up, where things got heated and an angry Scott was not something John would wish upon anyone. Well, he adjusted that thought, almost anyone.

Scott just nodded but didn't reply.

As the conversation had become easier throughout, John decided to push a little further, "Listen, about earlier…"

"Not now, John," Scott shook his head, cutting his younger brother off before he'd even finished. "Later." It wasn't a question.

"Okay," John conceded. He'd always known that there would be a 'later' and he dreaded to think about how it would go. Scott was a good commander and a lot like their father but he was fearsome when he was angry, hence the earlier need for a soft warning. "Well, keep me informed," he changed the subject back to safer ground.

"FAB," was Scott's final response.

XxxxX

John had only just sat back from the conversation with Scott when he was receiving a call from his father. "Go ahead, Base," he answered into the microphone he held.

"John," Jeff acknowledged. "I need a progress report," he said emphatically.

John didn't doubt that his father 'needed' an update. He knew though that it wasn't as the commander of International Rescue but more as Virgil's father. "Well, Dad," John began, "We know the jet is heading to an old RAF training base at a place called Ferryhill. Scott and Penelope are heading there now. They're going to let me know what they find."

Jeff nodded, "I see." He was sat up straight, clearly expecting more.

"I intercepted a radio message from the jet. It sounded like they're going to be heading for Sedgefield since there's an airport there," John relayed. He watched his father's mouth open and already knew what the question would be. "There was no mention of Virgil, but I'm tracking his ETD."

"Good," Jeff sighed. "That's something at least." He paused, taking his glasses his off and squeezing the bridge of his nose. The action reminded John of the kind of thing Scott did when he was stressed. Finally, Jeff looked back, "Are you holding up okay, John?"

"Me?" John was surprised by the question and began to nod his head, more through instinct than response. He didn't want to think about himself right now, knowing if he did then he would be kissing any help he might be able to offer the others good-bye. He couldn't consider his own feelings of guilt, helplessness and anger. If he did, he would surely breakdown and none of them could afford that. Least of all Virgil. "I'm fine," he managed to get out. "Keeping myself busy, y'know?" he said as he pretended to busy himself off screen.

Jeff nodded, every inch of him was weary, "That's good, Son," he sighed. "I've spoken to Gordon and Alan. How's Scott?"

John wondered if Gordon had told his father about what had happened, but brushed the idea away. If his father had known of his discussion with his older brother, this conversation would have started in a very different tone. "You know Scott," he said accompanying the vague reply with a shrug.

"Why do you think I'm asking?" Jeff raised an eyebrow.

"He's okay, Dad," John assured him. "He's upset. We're all upset and we want to see these guys pay but most of all we just want Virgil back safe." He could hear a beeping in the background of his father's image. "Is that Gordon calling in?"

"Yes it is," Jeff confirmed. "I'd better go. Listen, John, keep an eye on Scott for me, will you? I don't want him doing anything rash."

John nodded despite wondering what exactly his father expected him to do when he was so far away. "Sure, of course I will," he responded as expected. "Thunderbird Five out."

"Go ahead, Thunderbird Two," Jeff's authoritative voice, though a little deflated, boomed through the speakers before John's image had disappeared.

"Father," Gordon acknowledged. "Just to let you know that we've dropped Dr. Hunt at St Mary's Hospital in Hereford." His tone adopted a darker tone, "It doesn't look good though, he'd lost a lot of blood despite our best efforts and he was in shock even before we handed him over. Between you and me, I don't think the doctor I spoke to was hopeful."

"Well," Jeff shrugged a little. "We did our best, Son, that's all any of us can do. It's out of our hands now. Did you have any problems with the police?"

"Well, that's the thing," Gordon frowned as he replied, "there wasn't a police officer in sight." He shook his head, mystified, "I was expecting some kind of interrogation. Scott and I discussed the implications of taking him to a hospital, I knew we could be incriminating ourselves but there was nothing. I mean guys don't fall out of the sky with bullets in their chests, but it's almost as if they weren't interested."

"How do you mean 'weren't interested', Gordon?" Jeff matched his expression with a deep frown.

"Well, it was strange," the redhead replied. "There weren't any police officers there. In fact, the hospital seemed happy to just take Hunt off our hands and we didn't want to stick around. So we handed him over right there on the landing strip and then lifted off as soon as we could."

"Hmm," Jeff's frown deepened further and he raised a hand up to rub his chin in a subconscious reflective gesture. "I don't like it," he sighed.

"Me either," Gordon agreed. "It was too easy." Jeff seemed pensive and Gordon realised that the last thing he needed was unnecessary worry, in particular worry borne from a mere feeling of suspicion. Ultimately, they hadn't encountered any problems at the hospital and the deed was done now. He went on, hoping to reassure his father, "Y'know, we could be overcomplicating this. We only called the hospital a few minutes before we landed, maybe they didn't have time to call the police," he suggested.

"Well, then they'll probably try to get in touch with us one way or another. I'll have John keep an ear out," Jeff decided, the frown still deep across his features and not showing any signs of lifting. "We can't contact them. I can't take the risk that the hostage takers will harm Virgil. These men having nothing left to lose and a desperate man is an unpredictable man."

"Speaking of Virgil," Gordon interrupted his father's loud though process. He didn't seem his usual self, he was still uneasy about the reception they'd received at the hospital but given the circumstances, no one could blame him. "Heard anything yet?" as expected, Gordon enquired about his brother.

"Scott and Penelope are tracking him via his ETD signal, so it shouldn't be long now," Jeff hoped. "How about Cook? Where is he?" he asked, trying not to appear too harsh. Initially, he hadn't trusted the guy but he'd relied on Scott's judgement of the situation. Now, he wanted to get rid of the reporter as soon as possible.

"Cook's promised he won't write the story and he's going to give us all his hard evidence as security," Gordon replied. "Alan's talking to him now; we're going to take him to meet up with his cameraman."

"That's good work, Gordon," Jeff smiled. "Make sure you have all the evidence," he emphasised.

"I will, Dad," Gordon nodded. "I really think he's genuine. He remembered me from New York. He even said if there was anything he could do to help Virgil to just let him know."

"All right," Jeff nodded. "Well, drop him off and hopefully by then Scott will have tracked Virgil down." They exchanged glances, both more than aware of how much force there was in the word 'hopefully'.

"FAB, base," Gordon replied. "Let us know if there's any development, Thunderbird Two out."

Jeff heaved yet another sigh and sat back in his chair. His head pounded and he was tense, every muscle in his neck and shoulders was coiled tighter than a spring. He dreaded to think what he looked like. He'd barely eaten anything over the last twenty four hours, let alone managed any sleep. Reaching for the coffee jug on his desk he poured himself another. It seemed like he was living off coffee at the moment, despite Kyrano and Tin-Tin's best efforts. He couldn't rest though, just as he knew his sons couldn't, not while Virgil was still out there being held hostage by those maniacs.

He'd been so wrapped up in his thoughts that he hadn't heard Tin-Tin approach his desk, " …for you, Mr Tracy?" he caught the end of her sentence.

"Sorry, Tin-Tin," he shook his head at his own lack of concentration, "what did you say?"

Tin-Tin laughed but it was a nervous, understanding laugh, "I asked if you'd like some fresh coffee, Mr Tracy. That must be nearly cold," she held a hand out, gesturing to the jug.

"Oh," Jeff looked down at the mug he'd only just poured and felt the edges. She was right, it was cold. He wondered how long it had been since Kyrano brought it to him. It didn't seem that long ago. "Thank you, Tin-Tin," he accepted the offer, handing her the tray.

As she walked away towards the kitchen, Brains came into the room.

"Anything Brains?" Jeff asked immediately.

"No, err s-sorry, Mr. err Tracy," the young scientist replied. "Not a err th-thing on the err television or err radio. I do think it's err s-strange though, that the p-police aren't c-circulating reports. You'd think with e-escaped con-err-convicts that they'd want them err found as s-s-soon as possible."

Tin-Tin returned to the room, sitting down on the couch behind Brains.

"You're right, Brains," Jeff frowned. "Of course you're right. Especially with Dr. Hunt now in the hospital too," he thought the idea through. It was like Gordon said, it was too easy. "So why aren't the police looking for these escaped men?"

"Maybe they err don't err know who's e-escaped yet," Brains suggested "There are err only us and that err sc-sc- err… doctor," he struggled to use the word scientist, "that are err a-aware of the situation."

"Or," Tin-Tin purred, smiling up at her father as he brought back the freshly made coffee. "Maybe they don't need the police to look for them."

"Go on, Tin-Tin," Jeff pushed, unsure what she was getting at.

"Well, according to what Dr. Hunt told Ned Cook, that whole place is awash with corruption and secret government agendas," she looked around the room at Brains and Jeff in turn. "I just wonder how far up the chain of command this goes," she suggested. "Perhaps they are leaving it for the secret service to clear up the mess. It would certainly keep a scandal from the media."

"Lady err P-Penelope would be the err b-best person to ask about err the err British Secret Service," Brains theorised. "If that's what you are err th-thinking."

"You really think the British government would do that, Tin-Tin?" Jeff frowned, unsure if she was letting her imagination run wild. "Put the lives of its citizens at stake to avoid a scandal," he explained. "Besides, it's a big risk. Any number of things could go wrong in the meantime. They could kill someone," he suggested and then swallowed, realising the implications of what he'd just said.

"Well, what's to say they even know?" Tin-Tin raised an eyebrow, suggesting another angle. "Whoever's responsible for this, if there is one person accountable, they could just be a bad apple inside the service." She shrugged her shoulders and began to shake her head, wisps of hair floating around her dainty chin. "Besides, even if they are involved, I don't think putting their citizens' lives at stake is quite how they'll see it, Mr Tracy," Tin-Tin continued in her sing-song voice. "They'll be making some kind of active effort to re-capture the escaped prisoners sooner or later, and they're protecting the whole country from the bigger picture. There would be uproar if the truth ever came out."

"Hmm," Jeff nodded, thinking over her words with a great deal of uncertainty.

"Pardon me, err, Mr Tracy," Kyrano appeared in the doorway and shuffled from one foot to the other in apprehension. His hands were clasped together underneath the cuffs of his flowing blue, oriental gown.

"What is it, Father?" Tin-Tin frowned. "Whatever is the matter?"

"I'm afraid Mrs Tracy is on the vidphone and she insists on speaking with you." Jeff rolled his eyes at the news, but nodded in Kyrano's direction for him to continue. "When I explained that I was dealing with the household calls, due to the seriousness of the rescue, she became…" he pondered over the correct word, "upset."

"All right, thanks, Kyrano," Jeff nodded and gestured to the machine behind his desk, "you'd better put her through."

Kyrano just nodded and disappeared again.

"Something tells me this isn't going to be pleasant," Jeff sighed, glancing between his engineering team.

Tin-Tin offered him a smile, somewhere between sympathy and pity, and turned to the resident scientist, "Come along, Brains, we ought to help John with his research." She got to her feet and led the bespectacled man away to the laboratory.

Once the room was empty, Jeff took a mouthful of coffee and swivelled in his chair to face the screen behind him. He pressed a button and greeted an image of his mother looking none too happy, "Mother."

"Don't you 'Mother' me, Jefferson!" her rosy cheeks faded into insignificance with the fierceness of the anger she radiated. "I've just spoken to Kyrano; just when were you planning on telling me that my grandson is being held hostage by madmen?" Her scowl was so deep that her glasses tilted to one side. "I think it's about time you told me what on earth is going on there, young man!"

Jeff took in a deep breath and began explaining.

XxxxX

The first aid kit closed with a bang and Virgil squeezed his eyes shut as the sounds vibrated round his skull. His head didn't seem to be improving but he was pleased that he had managed to keep his eyes open whilst Luke had tended to his newly inflicted wounds. He looked down at his bandaged arm and could already see the white dressing beginning to turn pink in the centre, as the blood soaked through.

Luke saw his gaze, "I'm sorry, I can't do anything more."

"No," Virgil swallowed and shook his head, immediately regretting the action. "You've done everything you can, thank you." He met Luke's gaze and managed a smile before the bruising on his face turned it to a wince. "It'll stop the bleeding in a while."

Luke sat back with a nod but stared at the small puddles of blood on the floor and wondered if his actions would make any difference.

"What's going on in there?" Virgil asked, gesturing to the cockpit with a nod of the head. He wondered if Luke would even answer and didn't want to push him.

"They're arguing over what's going to happen now," Luke replied. He sat against one of the bulkheads and pulled his legs up to his chest. "We're heading to Ferryhill, there's a disused air base where Billy can land. Well, try to land, not exactly been a smooth ride so far, has it?" The anger in his voice was unmistakeable

Virgil managed a smile. "He's no pilot, that's for sure," he tried to appear nonchalant.

"Jake wants to escape to France," Luke sighed, "life long ambition, apparently," he explained. "Billy's staying with a friend who works at the airport Jake's flying… well, smuggling, from. Which leaves me…" he scowled, grinding his teeth together in anger, "no money, no car and no hope of ever getting to Leeds."

"Leeds?" Virgil asked.

"That's where my fiancée lives," Luke shook his head, "lived," he corrected. Virgil looked up and raised an eyebrow. "Well, that's where I last heard from her."

"You have a fiancée? Your son's mother?" Virgil was surprised that he divulged the information at all. When they'd been back in the Mole, Luke had been very reluctant to speak of his own family.

Luke studied their hostage for a few long minutes. Trying to ascertain whether he should answer or not. The silence continued to the point where Virgil was about to speak again, when Luke shifted slightly. "Ben, my son's name is Ben." He eyed Virgil with a menace Thunderbird Two's pilot had never seen in him before. Virgil knew it served as a warning not to push for information.

"After your brother," Virgil stated. "I see." He wondered if any of his brothers would name their children after him. He didn't doubt that they'd have children, eventually, and it would be a wonderful honour. On instinct, he decided John would be the most likely. Virgil's name was often the cause for ridicule from the youngest two and although he didn't doubt that Scott would like to do such a thing, he hesitated over whether his closest brother could live with the reminder.

"What are you thinking?" Luke asked, breaking his thought pattern.

Virgil didn't hesitate in replying. He'd discovered that he liked talking. It distracted him. "You were so reluctant to talk about your family before, what's changed?"

The atmosphere changed in an instant. The air became heavy. Luke kept glancing up at him, but never long enough to hold his gaze. He was wondering how he could tell Virgil that he wouldn't live long enough to pose a threat. "You really want to know?" he asked as he sighed and avoided Virgil's expectant gaze.

"I'm asking, aren't I?" Virgil attempted a smile but, again, it pulled on his bruised face.

Luke gestured to the cockpit, "They were discussing what they're planning to do with you."

"Oh," Virgil sighed, the reply eloquent enough to portray his sudden depression. He looked up to Luke and was hesitant to ask the question on his lips. He deliberated for a few moments on whether to proceed. The answer wouldn't raise his spirits, he was aware of that, but at least it would enable him to prepare himself. He cringed in embarrassment as he remembered what had happened back in the Mole and how he'd been tricked into believing they were going to shoot him. That was the turning factor. He was afraid of dying but he was damned sure, that if he was going to die then he'd retain some dignity. "And? What have they decided?"

"Well, Jake's plan," Luke swallowed, "was to leave you somewhere remote and let you bleed to death," he gestured to Virgil's newly cut arms. "But we're almost at the air base now and we slowed down earlier but you're still here." Virgil had felt it, his piloting instincts had told him that they were slowing, but then after a few minutes they'd picked up speed again. He shuddered at the thought of bleeding to death, alone and afraid. Luke sensed his discomfort and stopped but Virgil looked up at him, expecting him to carry on. "Billy…" Luke continued, he spoke slowly, as if he didn't want to voice Billy's plan. "Billy wanted to leave you in the jet and then torch it, after we'd landed."

Virgil's pupils dilated. Somehow bleeding to death in the middle of nowhere sounded more appealing. Being burned alive and being suffocated were his two biggest fears in death. He didn't care if it made him a coward; he wanted something quick and painless. "Oh well," he swallowed and forced an ironic smile through painful, shaky lips, "I did consider being cremated once, at least it would save on funeral costs."

The humour was inappropriate but nevertheless, Virgil felt a rising need inside to laugh. He had no explanation as to why, given that the situation wasn't at all entertaining but as his smile widened, he felt himself begin to shake. One look at Luke's expression sobered his jocular mood. His companion was horrified.

"Sorry, that was crude. I never did do humor very well," Virgil mumbled. "If they're going to torch this thing with me inside then I need to ask you a favour." The atmosphere between them changed again, this time becoming serious.

Luke hesitated, "Virgil, you know I can't promise you anything." He sighed, looking at Virgil's pleading expression. "I'll try, go on."

"It's just… I need you to make sure my brothers know where I am," he stopped and amended that last statement, "where my body is," he stopped again, "or … what's left." Luke screwed his nose up at the thought and Virgil hurried on. "Please, Luke, don't make them go through everything you did. Let International Rescue know what's happened."

Luke's nod of acceptance seemed uncertain and Virgil sensed he was uncomfortable with the way this was playing out. If there was ever any chance that he could escape the fate they'd planned for him, he knew he needed Luke's help. He endeavoured to keep the conversation ticking. "Bet you're looking forward to seeing Ben, huh?"

"Yeah," Luke nodded again. "I guess I am." Virgil frowned at him, surprised by his apparent reluctance. He didn't want to ask, afraid that he'd be pushing Luke too far. Instead, waited for the young man to go on, should he want to continue. "I keep thinking, it's been three years and they haven't heard a thing from me." The abscondee shrugged, "What if Lisa's moved on? What if she's got another bloke? What if Ben calls him Daddy?"

Virgil could understand his apprehension. "You're Ben's father; nothing is going to change that. It's a fact."

"Not really," Luke shrugged and risked a glance up to Virgil's battered face. "I told Lisa not to put my name on the birth certificate when he was born. I wanted him to have a chance in life. Not to be held back by the fact I'm a … I didn't want him to ever find out what kind of man I was, what I'd done."

"Which is how the authorities don't know about him," Virgil let out a gentle sigh, unsure how to reply. He took a few moments to formulate a response. "Luke, you're still his father. He's your flesh and blood. That won't ever change."

Virgil didn't know what else to say, fatherhood wasn't his area of expertise. The situation reminded him of years of counselling various brothers through relationship woes. One late night conversation with Gordon sprang to mind as the nearest comparison. His younger brother, then a WASP trainee, had been frantic at the possibility of a little accident heading his way. Virgil smirked. At the time it hadn't been remotely funny, but seeing the serious side to Gordon's nature was a rarity.

"Yeah, I know," Luke nodded but let his head drop. "It's just," he sighed again, "I don't know." He rubbed a hand across his face, "It wasn't supposed to be like this. I want Ben to grow up in a proper family. I don't want him to end up like me. What kind of life can I offer him? Either of them? Even if I make it to Leeds and Lisa's still there, I'm asking her to up sticks and leave everything; her friends, her family. For what? A life on the run with me. Hardly two point four children is it?"

Virgil grinned, despite the situation. "Lisa?" he asked, as he flexed his fingers, pain tingling all the way up his arm in response. "She's your fiancée?" he asked, after Luke had used her name on more than one occasion. Luke was hesitant, as if he hadn't meant to let that slip but then he nodded, so Virgil took it as a prompt and went on. "I guess you have to take a chance on her. The foundation of any relationship is trust, she trusts you to come back just as much as you trust her to still be there. You just have to have a little faith. Isn't that what love is all about?"

"Yeah," Luke smiled. "I suppose I'm just nervous, that's all." A sudden judder ran through the jet and it lurched again. Virgil went sliding across the floor and landed in an awkward heap. Luke wasn't far behind him. "Y'know, he couldn't fly a paper aeroplane, let alone this thing," Luke grumbled as the floor tilted the other way and they both went spinning to the other side.

After the manoeuvre was repeated a few times, they levelled out again. Virgil sighed and rubbed his face, where he'd impacted with a steel strut on his already bruised jaw. He didn't have time to gather his thoughts as the jet titled once more one way and then the other. At one point, judging by the momentum, Virgil wondered if they were about to roll. As he grabbed on for dear life, Luke connected with a metal pillar, letting out a vocal "Oof."

Virgil grabbed a hold of his arm, before he slid back the other way. The pull was so hard that Luke cried out in agony as his shoulder struggled to take the strain. In his weakened state, Virgil couldn't hold him and they both went tumbling to the 'floor'. Then, using Virgil as some kind of climbing frame, Luke scrambled up the metal pillar, which, as the plane wobbled, had moved from being vertical to now appearing horizontal. Virgil grunted as Luke pushed himself towards the cockpit door, unwittingly connecting with Virgil's bruised chest in doing so.

"I'm going to find out …" Luke paused as he reached for the door handle in time with the swaying momentum of the jet, "what the hell…" he failed to reach it. Stopped. And then tried again, this time succeeding, "is going on." With that, he disappeared, leaving Virgil holding on to what should have been the floor of the jet but was now a temporary wall, with only his thoughts for company.

The affects of adrenaline never ceased to amaze Virgil. He realised that, in the struggle to avoid further injury, it had acted like a drug, coursing through the veins of his body, not only rejuvenating him but providing a new strength. It reminded him of the sensation you get after the first mouthful of whisky from a glass, warming you through but at the same time numbing you, making you feel invigorated. It was a feeling that he was eternally grateful for.

As the cockpit door swung shut, Virgil caught the sounds of angry dialogue being exchanged. More than that though, the sounds the instrumentation was offering up didn't fill him with confidence. He recognised the alarms in an instant and for a few moments, as his hands tightened around the 'wall', his stomach lurched and his eyes squeezed closed.

He was back in Thunderbird Two. The alarms blaring and the cockpit filling with smoke so quickly he didn't even have time to register it. Sparks were flying around him and he could feel the heat of the fire. Then somewhere above the din, Scott's voice was shouting at him, telling him he had to keep going.

A hand on his shoulder brought him away from the frying pan and into the fire. He frowned and blinked his surroundings back into focus. He was pleased to see that the jet's violent manoeuvring had subsided to a slow rolling momentum, not dissimilar to being on a boat. He traced the hand on his shoulder back to its owner. "Luke? What's happening?"

Luke swallowed and shrugged his shoulders, indicating his confusion. "I'm not sure, there's some kind of problem with the landing gear. Billy's talking about one of the hydraulic rams failing, and the hatch has jammed," he relayed. "He's going to have to land without it."

"Luke, I'm telling you, that man isn't capable of carrying off a crash landing," Virgil replied without hesitation. He went on to explain his logic. "International Rescue could help. Call them, without their help it's suicide!"

Luke frowned. His eyes became red as he stared at Virgil in disbelief. "I don't believe it!" he explained as they both moved in time with the jets swaying movement. "That was the plan all along wasn't it? Jake's right. They sabotaged the jet!"

"What?" Virgil shook his head, confusion reigning. "No!"

"I can't believe I nearly fell for it a second time. I can't trust you, you're a liar!" Luke's anger erupted in the form of a shove to Virgil's shoulders.

Virgil fell backwards with a thud onto the fixtures for the survival box that now formed their floor. The jet continued to judder and stagger about in the air, vibrating with such force that it felt like it might break apart at any moment. "No!" Virgil managed to gasp out, sliding in time with the aggressive motion of the jet. "Think about it, Luke, why would they do that? Billy was right before. International Rescue is about saving lives not ending them!" From his position on the floor, he watched as Luke held on to a bulkhead, pondering what he was saying. "They'd never do it."

Luke stared at him, unsure what to believe. The sight before him really was pitiful but he was torn. Virgil had betrayed his trust already by attempting an escape yet Jake didn't give a damn about him either. The man before him now was the better of the two, he thought. A lesser of two evils. Could he trust International Rescue, though? He wasn't sure but then as he looked at Virgil, truly looked, he came to an instinctive conclusion. The man in front of him had saved his life. Pure, simple and without reservation. He'd offered compassion where Jake had only threatened and for once in his life, Luke felt that he had been listened to, perhaps even understood.

"Luke, you have to believe me," the desperation in Virgil's tone, the sincerity and depth of emotion in his eyes; it was all so open. There for Luke to take in. And he did. He could feel Virgil's exhaustion, understand his fear, identify with his apprehension and empathise with his despair.

"We don't have time for this now," Virgil brought the dispute to a temporary truce. He could feel the tension from the way the jet was responding to the pilot. He knew what was about to happen and he knew it wouldn't be pretty. Taking Luke's silence as some sort of acceptance to the armistice, Virgil scrambled to his feet with the aid of the 'wall'. Knees bent in an effort to stay upright, the simple movement sucked every ounce of energy from him and he almost fell back down as the 'floor' moved beneath him. A surge of adrenaline pumping through his veins forced his body to respond, albeit slowly, despite his injuries and his fatigue. "Luke, listen to me," Virgil began. "This jet is going to crash. And when it does, we're in big trouble…"

He didn't have a chance to finish the sentence as he slipped across the floor, in time with another sharp jolt. The jet juddered and began rolling again. Its two occupants were tossed around like a pair of socks inside a washing machine as Billy struggled to regain control. The cockpit door banged open and Jake came tumbling out, holding on to a steel girder in an effort to steady himself whilst he banged the metal exit shut.

Virgil was horrified to see that Jake was trapping Billy in the cockpit, but he didn't have time to ponder the thought as he found himself hurtling towards the other side of the jet. The last thing he saw was the metal bulkhead inches from his nose and in a frightening reminder of Two's crash, the last thing he heard was Billy shouting, "Oh my God, I… I can't hold her, I'm … I'm going to crash!"

The darkness was upon him from all directions and the battle for survival had only just begun…


	9. Chapter 9

_**In Too Deep – Chapter Nine**_

Manoeuvring Thunderbird One into the barn hadn't been an easy task but it was necessary to prevent their security being compromised. Task complete, as Scott readied himself to leave, he reasoned that they had little choice but to go it alone on this one. The fact that the police weren't suspicious that Dr Hunt had turned up at a hospital, seriously injured, was perhaps evidence enough that there was a higher force at work. Though International Rescue was an apolitical organisation, they could only operate that way whilst the powers of the world allowed them to. Making an enemy of the British Government was the last thing they wanted and Scott could say with certainty that the Government wouldn't want to draw attention to one of their more controversial projects, either.

Besides that, Scott didn't like the idea of hacking through copious amounts of red tape, which was sure to happen if they involved the authorities. The operation to get Virgil back safely had to be done subtly. As he looked around him, he realised that there was nothing subtle about the one hundred and forty tons that made up Thunderbird One.

Moving to the exit hatch, Scott's mind was filled with possible strategies. These prisoners had proved that they were beyond reason, now was the time for action. An ambush would put Virgil at too great a risk, a trap would take too long to facilitate, but he couldn't just sit back and wait for them to make a mistake. He just couldn't.

"Thunderbird One from Thunderbird Five, God, Scott," John's call prevented him from leaving the cockpit. His blond brother's voice was filled with alarm, bordering on panic. Scott frowned and moved towards the radio but it appeared John wasn't intending to wait for a response. "It's the jet," he continued, aghast, "the hydraulics on the landing gear have failed."

Scott chose that point to intervene, "It doesn't matter; there should be a back up system, it just means the gear will freefall into position and ..."

"Scott, it's too late," John stopped him with a shake of the head. "Virgil's ETD signal has been jumping about all over the place. Whoever's flying that plane was barely in control of it before. The pilot panicked," John stalled, the news he was about to deliver would not be welcome and he knew it only too well. "He lost control."

"What?" Scott replied, the frown on his face deepening in a gesture of concern. "What do you mean he lost control?" he exclaimed. "Where are they?"

"They were almost at Ferryhill when the pilot realized what was wrong, he panicked and lost control of the jet." John was reluctant to go on when he saw the expression on Scott's face but pushed forward, "From what I can make out, he attempted a crash landing on the air strip at Ferryhill. I've lost the radio feed," he met Scott's ice cold glare, unenthusiastic to see his brother's anger, "but it didn't sound good."

Scott clamped his jaw closed in a desperate bid to stop himself from screaming at the frustration he felt. "Okay, John," he swallowed hard, "so, they're at Ferryhill now? What speed were they registering when they hit the ground?"

John spared him the details but gulped, "Too fast."

"All right, I'm heading to Ferryhill now…" Scott reached forward to the screen, as if to disconnect the call.

"Wait!" John stopped Scott in his tracks. "He's moving! Virgil's moving." There was a pause as John concentrated on the screens in front of him and interpreted the information they were telling him. "His ETD signal is moving away from the jet."

Scott allowed himself to release a long breath, "Thank God. Okay, keep an eye on his signal."

John smiled in relief, "FAB," he breathed. He turned his attention back to his screen and left Scott to continue on his journey to meet Penelope.

Things were going from bad to worse.

XxxxX

There was an eerie silence as the dust settled. Hydraulic fluid hissed and metal creaked as if it might collapse at any moment. The sudden silence against the panicked chaos moments earlier was uncanny. Virgil blinked his eyes open and groaned at the pain emanating from every part of his body. He waited for survival training to kick in. He was a pilot. He was trained for this. But as smoke began to roll towards him in waves, he realised that survival wasn't going to be some spontaneous or automated reaction that his body would just obey.

He had to work for it.

Coughing against the dry smoke that was hindering his breathing, he rolled his head to one side taking in the damage. He was laid on his front but he became confused when he tried to focus on a nearby object, it wasn't the floor he was lying on. Looking around, he realised that the jet had somehow twisted and was almost on its side, in a precarious position.

Deciding that the smoke was becoming too dense to see through and that getting out might be a wise move, Virgil tried to push himself up. His chest heaved as he attempted to take his own weight and his whole body protested. He began to shake with violent tremors. It felt like his muscles were exploding from the white hot agony that rushed through him. Failing miserably in his plight, he sank back down on the floor with a grunt. It was at that point that his muddled consciousness realised there had to be a reason as to why he couldn't move. It wasn't the blood soaking through the dressings with sluggish certitude, either.

He realised with horror that there was something heavy across his back.

Chest muscles erupted in fiery agony by means of protest again, as he twisted to see the obstruction across his bottom half.

The cockpit door.

The last thing Virgil remembered it was swinging from its hinges but it must have come loose, and he was in no condition to remove it. It wasn't that the door was that heavy. Normally, he could have lifted it with ease but not today. Virgil wasn't sure whether it was dehydration or blood loss that was making him feel so weak or even if maybe his adrenaline supply was finally drying up. Either way, the remaining energy he had was departing him, leaving him with little hope of escape.

A scrambling noise close by brought Virgil's head up. In the dense smoke, he couldn't see but he could hope. "Luke?" he coughed as the smoke tickled the back of his throat. Squinting to be sure, Virgil saw a blurred figure in the haze. It stepped closer but Virgil was horrified to discover that it wasn't Luke at all.

"Well, well, well," Jake gloated as he loomed over his trapped prey. Virgil noticed that the blood stained yellow sash which the predator breathed into was the very same one that he'd been wearing that morning. Or should that be yesterday morning? He wasn't sure, it seemed this nightmare had been going on forever. "Oh, how the mighty have fallen! Looks like its all come right after all," Jake offered him a smug grin that only succeeded in him renewing his effort to move the door that was pinning him down. "Surely it's not too heavy for you, is it?" Jake crowed, "How pathetic!" he grinned. "And what a shame, you being such a hero and everything. What a way to die, eh? Pinned down by a door I could lift with one hand," he laughed with gusto, "there's irony in that."

He stepped forward and knelt alongside Virgil, who had exhausted himself in his struggle for freedom. Jake reached a hand forward and clasped Virgil's jaw, yanking his head so as he was looking directly at his captor. "Nobody," Jake squeezed Virgil's cheeks with his fingers for effect, "Nobody…" he growled, "crosses me and gets away with it." Mouth clamped shut, Virgil could only breathe through his nose, his chest shuddering from the lack of air. After a menacing stare, Jake let go and Virgil's head hit the floor once more.

Gasping for breath, the anger in him surged like a tidal wave and, fist poised, Virgil lunged forward as far as he could. A tingling fire began to spread from his knuckles to the bottom of his spine but he wasn't entirely sure whether he had connected with anything. He grunted as every muscle in his body objected to the sudden movement and pain surged up inside him. It wasn't until Jake's boot pushed his head against the floor that he realised his attack had not only been futile but also feeble, given his current condition.

Realisation hit him that this could be the end. It was far from the hero's death he'd imagined. It was wretched and pitiable. He bit his lip in order to prevent giving Jake the satisfaction of seeing him whimpering on the floor like a trapped animal.

"You know," Jake laughed again, "I'd be angry," he admitted before his grin became sinister, "if it weren't for the fact you're going to die."

"No one's going to die," a voice coughed from behind them both as Luke appeared from the smoke.

Virgil breathed a sigh of relief but Jake just made his way to the exit hatch, ignoring his companion in a selfish bid for freedom. Luke's head turned to follow Jake but he frowned in confusion at the older man's behaviour and knelt by Virgil. "Get this thing off me, Luke," Virgil panted, he would have tried again to push the door back but his energy was long gone. Now, he could only lie on the floor asking for help.

The sound of metal scraping against metal signified that the emergency exit was being opened and the smoke began escaping into the fresh air as daylight streamed into the dark wreck. "Luke!" Jake shouted, "I'm going to hold this door open for ten more seconds."

Luke's head snapped up at the mention of his name and he looked between the open hatch, longing to escape, and Virgil, who remained pinned to the floor.

"Ten," the countdown began, "nine."

"I can help you, Luke," the words rushed from Virgil's mouth with the realisation that Luke was deliberating over his life. Virgil was well trained and he knew they hadn't jettisoned any fuel; as far as he knew, they were sitting on a time bomb. "Help me and I'll help you, I swear to you," he promised, no longer caring to hide the pleading that filled his voice. "You want to see Lisa and Ben, I can help you. I can help you but first you have to help me."

"Eight," Jake counted in the background, "seven."

Luke hesitated, still glancing between his two options in indecision. "Tell me the truth," he ordered as he bent down alongside Virgil. "Did International Rescue sabotage the jet?"

"No!" Virgil cried, screwing his face up as he realised that Luke still doubted him. "They wouldn't, Luke, I swear to you," wide brown eyes faced their only chance at freedom, focused on Luke and begged him for help without saying a word.

A few more moments of reflection passed.

"Six," Jake continued, "five."

Trusting his instinct, Luke was spurred into movement. Virgil let out a sigh of relief as his youngest captor moved down to his waist. He felt Luke take the strain of the door and for a few seconds the hard material was away from his back. He was free. But then something flickered and sizzled above them sending sparks their way. Luke panicked and in an effort to protect himself from the flames, he dropped the heavy door.

Virgil cried out as the weight hit, pinning him back down.

"Four," Jake called.

Luke threw Virgil an apologetic grimace.

"No!" Virgil shook his head, feeling the panic rise inside. "No, don't leave me here. Luke, help me! Try! Just try once more!" the words were frantic, portraying his distress, his fear, with a precision that Virgil hated himself for. He cringed inside, disgusted at the desperation he was riddled with. He didn't want to die but he was sickened by the lengths he was going to as his self control began to crumble.

Luke's pained expression moved slightly as he shook his head in another apologetic gesture. "I'm sorry," he muttered, "I … I can't. I have to get out."

Panic spreading like wild fire through every inch of him. "Trust me, Luke," Virgil pleaded, despite the shame he felt at having to. He knew his only hope of getting out of the wreckage alive was standing before him now. His fate rested solely in Luke's hands.

"Three," Jake's calls were getting quicker, "Two."

Hardening his jaw, Luke turned away and took steps through the smoke billowing from the cockpit. Virgil slumped to the floor in defeat. He could only bury his head in the crook of his arm and hope that it would be over quickly. A surge of despair rose up in him and for a few seconds he shuddered in an effort not to let it control him.

Luke neared the hatch, seeing Jake on the other side. "Jake, wait!" he cried, "Just give me five more seconds!"

Jake's expression became smug as he shrugged, "One."

The final marker.

Without any form of emotion, he swung the metal door closed in Luke's face. Luke lunged for the hatch, an angry battle cry escaping his lips but the door held firm. He was pretty sure he could hear Jake laughing on the other side, blocking the metal escape route somehow. After another try Luke's energy was fading and he took a breather. He panted to get his breath back as he scurried over to Virgil.

Head tucked into his arm, Virgil was so engrossed by his morbid thoughts that he didn't register Luke's presence until the door began to lift.

He could only offer his rescuer a grateful smile as words failed him. The relief was immediate but lasted only seconds. Soon the pain erupted from his battered body and he rolled onto one side, in agony. "We've got to get out of here," he breathed, swallowing back another cough. Now the hatch was closed again, the smoke had nowhere else to go and was becoming thicker, making it harder to breathe.

"Are you okay?" Luke frowned as he pulled Virgil to his feet. Virgil was grateful for the assistance but winced as Luke wrapped an arm around his waist. Pain shot across his lower back where the cockpit door had left an aching bruise and Virgil found himself digging his fingers into Luke's shoulder as his muscles spasmed.

"I'm fine," Virgil grunted out, biting down the fiery agony. "What about you?" he gestured to Luke's arm, where blood was beginning to trickle down the sleeve of his shirt. Luke's face was blackened and there were numerous cuts and scratches on his arms and face but he shook his head.

"It's nothing," he dismissed the injury, "just caught it on some sharp metal." Taking almost all of Virgil's weight, he led them towards the hatch. The smoke was beginning to turn from a dismal grey to a rich black and the smells it brought with it were of rubber and the vulgar, almost acidic, smell of electrics burning. It reminded Virgil of the lingering odour that hung in the air, not only for the duration of his trip back to Base in Thunderbird Two after being shot down, but also after that. It was the kind of stench, like stale cigarette smoke, that seemed to fasten itself to your hair and your clothing, and that took copious amounts of washing to remove.

Luke came to a stop and Virgil looked up, identifying their first problem. In order to make it to the hatch, first they had to climb a pile of unstable looking debris. Luke had no problems and pulled himself up onto the mass of crumpled metal but Virgil hesitated. He knew there was no way he could do it himself. Feeling useless, he could only lean against a damaged bulkhead and recoup some energy, watching in anticipation whilst Luke did all the work.

Luke, meanwhile, was pushing against the hatch once more in an effort to force it open. However, the smoke was causing him to cough and splutter, hampering his attempts at freedom. Due to the nature of the landing, the hatch was now situated almost on the ceiling and it was evident from the amount of effort it was taking to open that Jake had somehow weighted it down.

Virgil began to think ahead. Getting in touch with Thunderbird Five was their next priority but one glance at the cockpit told him that the radio would be irretrievable. The odd spark flew towards them and Virgil could already see the flames dancing closer and closer, almost like some kind of menacing threat not to even think about retrieving the radio. He looked around for some kind of extinguisher. He found the fixture but realised that the desired object had come loose in the crash.

"Come on, Luke," Virgil urged, "we don't have much time." The smoke hit the back of his throat once more and he dissolved into a coughing fit. "Hurry!" he managed to gasp out as he moved to stand on some debris. Luke paused to offer him a hand up and pulled him so as they were working side by side. Virgil began trying to push against the hatch in time with Luke but he wasn't sure whether he was providing any help or not. His body was on fire but he knew he had to keep fighting.

The battle wasn't over yet.

Despite his body begging him to stop, and continuing to torture him when he didn't, he had to push on. As he gritted his teeth and drove through the pain barriers, his effort was rewarded. The burning fire in his muscles began to fade into the background replaced with a gruff determination. A determination to survive.

A creak signified that they were making progress and one final heave later, daylight was streaming in.

All of a sudden, the fight left him and the agony rushed up to consume him like a fireball. Luke all but dragged him out onto the exterior of the jet and he collapsed in a heap, gasping for breath and no longer bothering to conceal his moans of discomfort. Luke, too, collapsed alongside him, gasping for breath as if he'd run a marathon and for a few moments they took the time to recover. Bar the hissing of air and roaring of fire at either ends of the wreckage, there was only the sound of laboured breathing from both of them. And a great sense of a relief.

Then they both turned. Something in the direction of the hatch caught their attention. A hand protruded, spread open, in an unmistakable plea for help. There was only one person who it could be and Virgil's eyes widened as he realised their dilemma. He had only just talked Luke into helping him by the skin of his teeth. Billy's influence had the potential to take him back to square one.

Luke looked at Virgil and Virgil looked at Luke. Still the hand protruded.

Virgil followed Luke's gaze as he looked from one end of the wreckage to the other. From the cockpit, the tough windows had been blown out and a dark grey smoke billowed, accompanied by the odd flame. The tail end was another story: thick, black smoke rose up from flames that flickered against the skies and stood metres tall.

"This thing's on fire!" Luke swallowed as he began shuffling his way across to Virgil and dragging him down the curve of the fuselage. "Let's go!"

"Somehow, he's still alive. We can't just leave him!" Despite everything, Virgil appealed to Luke's mercy. One look at Virgil caused a sigh to erupt from Luke. The injured pilot was right, of course, they couldn't just leave Billy to burn. Returning to the hatch Luke grasped the hand extended beyond and pulled Billy up on to the fuselage. Not intending to do anything else to aid his release, Luke turned his attention back to Virgil.

With great caution, all three slid onto the remains of a wing. Where it had almost snapped off as the jet hit the ground it now made for a perfect slide. The first thing that had gone right so far, Virgil reflected as he followed Luke down the blackened section.

Watching Luke slide down made it look easy but, for Virgil, it was far from it. The fact his shirt had been cut and torn meant that his back created friction as he let gravity pull him to the floor. There was a horrible screeching sound as his skin slid against the wing.

The journey to the ground wasn't as much of a problem, though, as the landing. His feet impacted with the ground sending shocks through his entire skeleton. He grunted as his eyes lost focus for a few seconds. He had no time to recover before Luke was pulling him to his feet.

"This thing's going to blow," Virgil muttered as Luke began dragging the battered pilot away. Billy attempted to follow but lagged behind them. Virgil hadn't even had a chance to register the fact he was on his feet, let alone what was happening, before he was being hauled in the other direction. Not that he was complaining; they needed to move fast and right now, his body wasn't about to do anything fast if left to its own devices.

Explosions sounded but Virgil didn't dare look back. From the flashes of orange light, he knew it couldn't be good. It became plain that Luke agreed with his sentiments as he picked up the pace. Taking more and more of Virgil's weight, he dragged them away from the danger.

His hand gripped harder against Virgil's bruised trunk and the jolting movement of the run was not only painful but also nauseating. Virgil didn't comment though. Unable to turn round and look, he could only hear Billy's laboured attempts to keep up with them.

The ground came up to meet him and for a moment, Virgil thought he'd stumbled, then he realised there was a pressure on his back, pushing him against the floor. They were falling, he thought, becoming confused but it was more like a dive. He saw the flash of light around them, like some kind of orange fireball they were in the middle of, before Luke's hand pushed his head against the rough concrete with firm force. There were a few seconds of strange silence and then a thunder-like rumble erupted from behind him, transforming into a loud explosion. As it grew with power, it became so loud that Virgil wondered if his head was imploding.

As he brought an arm up to protect his face, and hunkered down next to Luke as close to the ground as possible, he felt the heat roll across his bare back like the sea lapping at the sand in a never-ending cycle.

Virgil closed his eyes, sure that he was melting under the intensity of the heat. Then, as he was pelted with white hot rubble, he slipped into a world where this nightmare was well and truly over.

XxxxX

Having borrowed a vehicle from the agent who was keeping an eye on Thunderbird One, Scott was travelling and thinking so fast that it took a while for him to register the bleeping that was coming from his watch. Shaking himself away from the dark places his thoughts were taking him, he concentrated on the face of the time keeping device for a few minutes. Opening a channel, he looked back to the road.

"Scott here," he sighed. Despite his best intentions, he couldn't help but sound a little aggravated at the helplessness he felt.

"Scott, I've got an update for you," John's voice came through the speakers. He took a guess as to why Scott's live feed hadn't appeared on his screen and presumed he was driving.

Scott was quick to reply, eager for any news. "What is it? Is it Virgil?"

"His ETD is heading for Sedgefield Airport. I've informed Penelope and she suggests that you rendezvous with her there instead." John didn't mince his words. "Parker will meet you in the parking lot but judging your current speed and theirs you should arrive at about the same time."

"FAB, I'll adjust my route," Scott paused as he did so. "What are you thinking, John?" he asked, anxious to know what the most contemplative of his brother was considering. You could always rely on John to be calm and calculating, even in the most terrifying of situations.

"I'm thinking that Virgil's travelling too fast to be on foot," the blond astronaut replied without hesitation. Scott nodded even though his brother couldn't see the gesture. "He's got to be in a car," John assumed, "which begs the question: why is he heading for the airport?" A sigh rustled through the airwaves, illustrating John's clear reluctance. "He must be under duress, Scott," he concluded, though not at all happy about it.

"I agree," Scott's gruff tone told John that his sentiments were returned. "I'll be prepared," he added.

John frowned, not one hundred percent sure he liked the idea of Scott being 'prepared'. Remembering his father's words, he wondered just how far Scott would go for vengeance. His oldest brother wasn't a killer but his temper could be as vicious as Alan's when he allowed it to be. John had to admit that it wasn't often Scott's rage rose to the surface and it was usually with good reason. He couldn't deny his brother had good reason now.

"Have you heard anything from Base?" Scott's voice broke John's silent assessment, before he could really consider Scott's ability to remain rational when Virgil's life was at stake in a way it never had been before.

John let out a long and heavy, frustrated sigh. "Dad's worried sick. Brains and Tin-tin are looking into anything and everything they can find that's remotely related to the research center. Or why the hell the police aren't bothered that there are convicted criminals," he paused for a much needed breath, "armed convicted criminals," he emphasised, "running round the country." John realised that he was ranting and shook his head to himself, "Before you ask, no they haven't found anything yet but I'll keep you informed. And then to top everything off, Grandma's been on the line."

"Ouch," Scott didn't need to expand further. "Poor Father," he sighed, "I'm glad I wasn't around for that conversation."

"Between you and me, my money's on Dad sending Tin-Tin out to get her soon," John confided but Scott wasn't surprised at his estimation. Their grandmother could be very assertive when she wanted to be. A force that not even Jeff Tracy could withstand.

"Knowing Grandma, you're right," Scott allowed a grin to grace his features as he thought about just what his grandmother might have said to his father. He could guarantee one thing: it wouldn't have been pretty. "Anything from Thunderbird Two yet?"

"I contacted them to inform them about the jet and Gordon said he'd be landing in about five minutes. He's going to drop Cook off first." John's brow furrowed a little as he wondered what Scott was planning. "What do you want me to tell them?"

Unseen by John, Scott chewed on his bottom lip, "Tell them to stand by. I may need assistance."

John nodded, "Umm, okay," he spluttered out when he realised his brother couldn't see the gesture. There was something in Scott's tone that distracted him, something cold and sinister. Something that sent a chill down his spine. In the face of his brother's wrath, he began to feel sympathy for the men that, up until this moment, he had despised for their actions. "Scott, take it easy, okay?"

Scott scowled at his brother, despite the fact that John couldn't see him. "What?" he asked, knowing his brother was concerned he'd lose control of his temper, "You worried I'm going to hurt someone, Johnny?"

There was a hesitation across the airwaves that spoke volumes. "I just don't want you to do anything you're going to regret," John's hard thinking for a diplomatic response paid off. "What are you planning to do?"

"Ask no questions and be told no lies, little brother," Scott's reply was laced with menace behind the façade of a forced grin.

"Scott," John began. "Dad hasn't been off the frequency since the jet went down; he's worried sick and he wants these people to pay. But there's something going on here, something bigger. The authorities not knowing doesn't make sense, the last thing any of us needs is…"

"Don't lecture me, John!" Scott barked.

John swallowed. The dust hadn't settled from their earlier discussion and the last thing he wanted was to cause more friction. He could have retorted in a tone as vicious as Scott's, the comment was on the tip of his tongue, but he bit it back for the sake of keeping the peace. He heard his older brother let out a heavy sigh and awaited his response.

"I… I didn't mean to snap," Scott muttered and went on to change the subject. "Any news on Dr. Hunt, is he going to make it?" he asked, his tone now low and calm.

John accepted that the situation was getting to all of them and let out a sigh of his own, "It doesn't sound good." He paused to run a hand over his face, surprised to find his chin was a little rough. "From what I can make out, he's still in surgery but only just." The last few words came out rushed as his attention was grabbed by one of the consoles in front of him, "Give me a few minutes, Scott, I think I might have something here."

Scott tapped his fingers on the steering wheel in an outward indication of the tension he felt. He was in no mood to mess with. Anger simmered inside him and he was biding his time for the right moment to let it boil over. He was more than ready to dispense his own brand of justice to each of these so called human beings. He knew it and John knew it too. He was still in control though and aware that he was still a representative of International Rescue, something that John seemed to doubt. He was halfway between amused and insulted that John didn't trust him enough to know where the ethical line was to be drawn.

But for John, it wasn't so much Scott's ethical philosophy that was the problem, it was how Scott's emotional condition would affect it. They were all feeling the strain with the current situation and there wasn't a doubt in John's mind that Scott would be feeling the pressure the most. Virgil's safety on a rescue was his responsibility, at least that was how Scott saw it, and the guilt alone would be enough to hamper his ability to think rationally.

"I've just picked up a very interesting triple nine call," John spoke, tearing Scott away from his rhythmic tapping. Just from the rise in his tone, Scott could tell the news was good and waited for him to continue. "A carjacking in Ferryhill and you'll never guess where the tracker on the car is signalling from."

"Sedgefield," Scott nodded. "Well, at least that explains how they got the car. I'm approaching the airport now. Where's Virgil's signal?"

There was a short delay as John checked, "He's in the Airport …"

"Already?" Scott screeched, cutting his brother off mid sentence. "Damn! I'm going in."

"No, Scott!" John replied, his tone urgent and demanding attention. "Listen to me, Penelope is two minutes away, wait for her."

Scott pulled the borrowed vehicle into a bay and hurried to remove the key from the ignition as he spoke. "John, they could be getting away and they're taking Virgil with them!"

"They're not going anywhere, Scott." John reassured him, going on to explain, "There aren't any departures for another forty five minutes and according to the air traffic control there aren't any non-commercial planes there. You can't go in there alone, all three of them could be armed, not to mention that it's a public airport!"

"Yeah and they could be killing Virgil as we speak!" Scott knew his astronaut brother didn't need that reminder and regretted the words as soon as they'd left his lips.

"Just wait for Penelope, she should be there any minute," John replied as calm as he could. He hoped his soothing tone would rub off on his brother. He didn't doubt that if Scott unleashed his full anger in that airport, nothing short of an apocalypse would stop him.

Sighing, Scott sat back in his seat and raised his watch to his face, flipping on the display as he did. "What's the matter, John?" he asked with burning eyes. John took in his taut expression and his pale complexion, realising that he wasn't the only one who looked a sight. "Don't you trust me not to hurt them?"

Cool as always, John shook his head, "Ask no question and get told no lies, Scott," he grinned.

Scott bit his lips together but nodded, "Thanks for that vote of confidence." John appreciated the sarcastic comment and smiled. "I'm not the murderer here, John. You're acting like I'm some kind of maniac."

"Only because if I were in your position, I know how I'd be feeling," John admitted, fracturing Scott's irritation a little. "Penelope's on the line, she'll be with you in a few minutes, okay?"

Scott nodded, taking a few moments to calm himself. He had to admit he was a little annoyed at the unnecessary panic in John's demeanour. "I just want him back, John, that's my top priority. If I get to bust a few asses along the way then that's a bonus."

John was sympathetic to the emotional roller coaster Scott was travelling. "We all do, Scott," he muttered.

"And for the record," Scott went on, "yes, I'm angry but no, I'm not out of control."

John nodded at his brother's sincerity. "I know," he stated with conviction. "I'll talk to you later," were John's final words before the link closed down, bypassing all formal radio protocols.

In the silence that followed, Scott began thinking of the things he'd need from Penelope. They knew that Virgil was bleeding and might need urgent medical attention; they made need to take him to a hospital. In which case, they would also need to dissolve the tracker inside of him, in case it interfered with the machinery. As he began to tap his fingers on the steering wheel again, Scott looked around for any signs of the prestigious Pink Rolls Royce. It was as he looked back towards his tapping fingers that he realised he was still wearing his uniform. And if an International Rescue uniform didn't draw attention to him then nothing would. He growled to himself in frustration, wishing he'd had the foresight to change into civilian clothes.

His patience was about to run out when the sleek Rolls Royce pulled alongside him. Slowing down to a steady stop, Parker controlled the vehicle with a lot more grace than Scott had shown with his parking. Jumping out of the driver's seat of his borrowed vehicle, Scott scurried into the back of the luxurious pink car.

"Scott," Penelope smiled at him in her usual serene manner, "perfect timing, as ever. John is locating Virgil's edible transmitting device, as we speak." She turned her attention back to the monitor in front of her and from where he sat Scott could just make out his blond brother returning to the screen.

"'Ere in h'England, we park h'our ve'icles," Parker commented from the driver's seat as he looked down his nose at the car Scott had, for want of a better word, abandoned. "None h'of that dumpin' 'em, like what you Yanks do."

Scott was so taken aback at the easy banter and how calm they both seemed that he failed to retaliate with enough speed. Penelope could read his expression though and quelled the angry retort that was brewing.

"Enough, Parker," she broke from her conversation with John to intervene. "Proceed to the entrance."

"Very good, M'Lady," the chauffeur nodded from underneath his cap and went back to concentrating on his driving.

"Scott, you'll be needing some kind of disguise," Penelope continued, adopting a pensive expression as she looked around the leather interior searching for inspiration. Her gaze rested on a compartment in the back of the passenger seat. "Perfect!" she sighed as her manicured nails pressed the appropriate controls to open the box. "Borrow Parker's dress coat and shoes," gesturing to the now open compartment, she turned back to John.

Reaching forward, Scott retrieved the heavy wool coat and began to remove his sash. The full length overcoat concealed his uniform, he had to admit, but to say it was a tight fit was somewhat of an understatement. The shoes had been polished to perfection and were about two sizes too small but he attempted to force his feet in anyway.

Parker saw his plight. "H'I h'always carry h'a spare pair," he informed the struggling pilot. "In case 'er Ladyship requ'res me t' look smart."

"Really?" Scott growled, uninterested in Parker's small talk.

Penelope was unaffected by their exchange and continued her conversation with John, as collected as always, "I see, John, well we're approaching the entrance now. Parker shall drop us off, so please tell us exactly where Virgil's signal is coming from." There was a pause whilst Scott struggled to tie the laces on Parker's shoes.

Succeeding in his plight, Scott sat back with a sigh.

"I see," Penelope continued with John, completely unperturbed.

Scott looked down at himself and became self conscious. For a man who prided himself on exclusive suits and designer shoes, he looked a sorry sight. The blue of his trousers was just visible at the bottom of the coat and it was such a grossly small fit that he looked ridiculous. Still, it was better than the alternative and with a bit of luck, they would be in and out before anyone had even noticed.

He began rifling through the secret compartments in the back of the seats, searching for the dissolver he had earlier feared he might need. He sighed in frustration when he couldn't find what he wanted. "ETD dissolver, Parker?" he asked in a fluster. "Where is it?"

Parker reached forward to a small computer console on the dashboard and typed in the appropriate codes, "H'under your seat, Sir, there's h'a safety cabin't where M'Lady likes t' keep h'all 'er medical h'accessories, so t' speak."

Scott bent down and felt underneath his legs. Sure enough, under the chair there was a small latch and a touch pad that scanned his finger print. The drawer unfolded with a mechanical hiss, revealing a box full of various vials. Scott muttered to himself as he studied the labels and pulled one or two out at random. Coming to the one he wanted, he studied it for a few minutes. He grabbed a syringe from the end pocket of the drawer, before he slid it back under his seat and waited for the camouflage panel to cover it up. Drawing the contents of the vial into the syringe, he replaced the plastic cap on the end of the needle and buried it deep in Parker's coat, hoping that Virgil would be well enough not to need it just yet.

"We shall disembark over there, Parker," Penelope laid out a delicate finger pointing to the entrance. "John has managed to pin-point Virgil's location. I know precisely where he is."

Parker pulled up outside the entrance to the airport, amongst taxis and other waiting vehicles. He wasn't even stationary before both his passengers jumped out, leaving him with orders to await further instruction. He nodded his customary gesture of acceptance and slid back in his seat. Lowering his cap over his face and closing his eyes.

Penelope hurried into the airport, managing to retain some grace despite her urgency. Scott, hot on her trail, had long since passed worrying about grace and was more concerned with the suspicious glances he was receiving.

"Where to, Penny?" he asked as he hobbled along in Parker's shoes. So much for being inconspicuous. He quickened his pace to a jog as Penelope studied a map of the layout on the wall.

"This way," she called as she proceeded in one direction, managing to push herself through small crowds of people in a dignified and calm manner.

"Excuse me," Scott found himself saying as he bumped into people in his hurry. "Sorry, I…" He pushed on, keeping sight of Penelope and following at maximum speed where possible. "Excuse me," he pushed his way through with sincere apologies yet an urgent need to get to his brother.

Penelope came to a stop outside a blue door. Frowning at the sign in front of her, she hesitated and pulled out her compact. "John," she spoke in her soft tones. She attempted to be discrete whilst imitating re-applying her make-up. "I followed your instructions. Are you absolutely sure about this?"

"Yes," the blond astronaut replied. "His signal's definitely coming from in there. I've got you too, right outside," he nodded. "What's the problem?"

"Problem?" Penelope queried. "Oh, there is no problem," she assured him with a brief smile. She closed down the link just as Scott arrived, a little breathless.

"He's in there?" Scott gestured to the door she stood outside and she nodded. "Great!" he panted as he drew his gun, careful to avoid being seen. "Come on, he could be hurt!" he swallowed. Without a thought for the anxiousness he felt, he pushed the door open and then disappeared inside.

Penelope sighed as the door swung shut in her face. The metal plate was just at eye level, 'WC: Gentlemen' it read. She cringed, "Oh, the things I do for International Rescue," she muttered as she pushed the partition aside and followed Scott in.

"All right, now …" Scott was cut off as he met a most unwelcome sight. "You!" he cried. The anger in his voice was uncontained and erupted from nowhere. His eyes bulged and his outstretched arm, which carried his poised firearm, dropped in sheer surprise. He took menacing steps forward as he comprehended what his eyes were telling him. The dangerous fire behind his blue orbs only intensified. "You son of a…" Scott was quick on his feet and dived forwards, pinning the man in his sights to the wall, whilst Penelope did a quick check that the other booths were empty.

Ascertaining that they were indeed alone, she moved back to the entrance door. Satisfied to take the backseat Scott had given her, she leant back in order to prevent anyone else coming in. Watching Scott's fury erupt, she stood in silence and tried to make sense of the scene in front of her.

The only other man in the room when they'd entered had been hunched over the sink and appeared startled at Scott's intrusion. Penelope watched, unsure why Scott was so irate and confused that the figure in front of her was clearly not Virgil. She recognised the unidentified man from a mug shot in one of the files she'd perused but couldn't identify which one of Virgil's attackers he was.

Scott's pounce had taken Jake by surprise and he was too shocked to fight back as the pilot took a hold of his collar and pushed him up against the tiled wall. The force Scott used was brutal and Penelope winced as Jake's head connected with the hard wall. A deep thud echoed off the porcelain but Scott wasn't perturbed. Instead, as Jake's head rolled forward, he brought his arm up and pushed it against the villain's throat. Jake's pupils began to dilate at the firm pressure Scott was applying and he brought his hands up in an instinctive attempt to pull the obstruction away. Scott just increased the pressure, though the satisfaction he felt to see the discomfort in Jake's eyes was frightening.

"Anything?" Scott breathed through gritted teeth as he turned to face Penelope.

"Not a thing," Penelope replied, eyes wide as she continued to observe. Unsure how he planned to play this, she waited to take her cue from him.

"Where is he?" Scott's attention returned to the man that he was pinning against the wall but Penelope was reassured that his tone of voice wasn't as angry as she had anticipated.

Despite Jake's predicament, he eyed Scott with defiance, "I almost didn't recognise you," he grinned, eyes flickering with menace. He looked Scott's 'disguise' up and down, proceeding to let out a bitter laugh. "How did you know I was here?"

Scott wasn't amused. He forced Jake's head back and added a little more pressure to where his forearm rested against the criminal's windpipe. "I asked you a question," Scott growled.

When Jake didn't reply, Scott pushed harder against his trachea, hampering the thug's attempts to breathe. It wasn't until Jake began to gasp from the lack of air that Scott saw a flicker of fear on his features. Jaw hard and muscles tense, it was all Scott could do not to push a little further. He was determined though, that the fury he felt inside wouldn't control him. He wasn't prepared to give Jake that satisfaction.

Jake gargled for air and came to the realisation that the angry man in front of him was very serious. "Stop!" he gasped out. Scott's ice cold glare held no sympathy but he did loosen his hold a little. Taking a few moments to breathe again, Jake managed a sinister grin as he looked back up at the fire burning in Scott's eyes. "I don't know what you're talking about," he uttered, his tone as defiant as his stance.

"Enough!" Penelope commanded. Scott glared at her but obeyed the order. "My dear boy," she cooed as she stepped toward Jake, "you are treading on very thin ice. As you may or may not have comprehended we do not have time to play your silly games. At present, I am the only thing standing between you and an untimely engagement with a very angry young man. I strongly urge you to tell us everything you know."

"I'm not telling you anything!" Jake insisted, wriggling about within the confines of Scott's hold.

"Very well," Penelope nodded. She turned to Scott. "You have two minutes. Be as persuasive as you wish." Scott frowned at her. He was unsure just what she was insinuating and where she was planning to go. Hanging around outside the men's lavatory wasn't exactly standard operating procedure for an aristocrat. "I have a little errand to run," she expanded when she saw the confusion in Scott's eyes.

Scott nodded and watched her head towards the door. Her faith in his ability to keep his calm was surprising, giving John's earlier words of wisdom. Scott didn't doubt that his blond brother would have mentioned his concerns to Lady Penelope. He trusted that the 'errand' she was running was pertinent to their situation and wondered what was so urgent that it couldn't wait until after they'd dealt with this animal.

He turned his attention back to Jake, his determination not to lose control renewed.

Penelope took steps towards the door, reassured that Scott wouldn't take this too far. She understood his desire for vengeance a lot better than he gave her credit for but Scott was calm and rational. He had no problems in dealing with any situation, she reminded herself, thinking of the times he'd rescued her from perilous situations with his quick thinking and calm demeanour. Besides, she thought as she pushed the door open and stepped back into the low hubbub of the tiny airport, she had a feeling that not even Scott's fury could encourage Jake to talk and if that was the case, they'd be in need of a little assistance. She raised her compact and flipped it open, "Ah, Parker, excellent," she began, "I need you to do something for me."

Back inside, Penelope's assumptions about Jake's willingness to crumble were appearing correct. He stared at Scott, insolence sparkled in his eyes and he leant as far forward as he could.

"You think I'm scared of you?" he mocked in Scott's face, laughing at the absurdity of the suggestion.

"No?" Scott replied, his grin dropping to form a deep, menacing scowl. "Well, maybe you should be."

Penelope had reassured herself with beliefs that Scott was at all times calm and rational. However, with Virgil still missing and hurt, calm wasn't the best description of Scott's emotional state. And as Jake continued to mock him, ethical reasoning seemed to fall away leaving only anger, rage and a strong desire for retribution.


	10. Chapter 10

_**In Too Deep – Chapter Ten**_

Jeff Tracy was many things: world renowned astronaut, successful businessman, hot-shot pilot, self made billionaire. He was all of them and he was damned good at being them too.

But there had always been a part of him that was more significant than the businessman or the astronaut. A part of him that took precedence over everything else and had done from the moment he'd first cradled his eldest son in his arms. Because above and beyond the astronaut and the businessman, Jeff Tracy was something much more important; he was a father.

Not wanting to go too far from the lounge in case there was any news, he'd opted for the soothing sounds of the sea and ended up out on the balcony, thinking. Thinking had soon turned to brooding and before long, the philosophising had started as past and present collated to flood his mind with unwanted contemplation.

The hardest thing about putting his life-long ambitions for International Rescue into operation had been asking his sons to put their lives on the line. The fact that they put just as much effort into the organisation as he did was of little comfort at times like this. From the moment they were born, his children had always been Jeff Tracy's top priority. He was a family man and it showed. One of the things he loved so much about having to live away from civilisation was that they were all back together.

Even though his sons were all grown men now, in his heart they were still his little boys and having them around reminded him that he wasn't half as lonely as he sometimes thought. The roar of Thunderbird One's engines as Scott rumbled past the balcony and the blip on the horizon that signified Virgil's constant and steady approach never failed to fill him with such a sense of pride that it threatened to consume him. In fact, there had been occasions in the past when, on seeing such sights, he hadn't been able to stop a wide, satisfied grin from forming on his lips.

However, now was most definitely not one of those times.

Not that he wasn't proud. He was. He was proud of the way each of his sons had handled this disastrous situation. Of all people, he knew how hard it was to keep your cool when someone you loved came under mortal threat. Gordon's accident, Alan at the San Miguel Bridge, Scott in the Sahara Desert and of course Virgil with the Sentinel. Yes, he knew that feeling of frustration well, trying to stay calm when it seemed like nothing was going your way.

Your whole world hanging on by a thread and there not being a damned thing you can do about it. That was a familiar feeling. However, the fear had never been as tangible as it was today. Fear in the pit of his stomach that rose in what felt like a solid lump to rest at the back of his throat. Today, if possible, was worse than ever before. Not only was Virgil's life on the line, but the tangled web they'd been embroiled in had the potential to bring International Rescue to its knees.

Hoping the old custom of soothing liquor would quell the burning apprehension inside him, Jeff found himself heading back towards his desk, a scotch in one hand and the other raised to his temples. He heaved a mournful sigh as he set the heavy, crystal glass tumbler down on top of one of the various pieces of paperwork that littered his desk. Plopping down into the chair, he allowed his head to drop into his hands and he rubbed at his tired, sore eyes. Sleep had been a commodity he hadn't been able to afford just lately. Not with the situation as it was.

As he slumped back in his seat he picked up a nearby file and idly glanced at the label on the front. The way the felt now, million dollar contract negotiations were insignificant. What he stood to lose today was drastically more precious to him and not something that money could ever replace.

His head snapped up, too quickly if the shooting pain in his neck was anything to go by. Out the corner of his eye, he was sure he saw Scott's portrait flash. His hand was already at the radio controls before he'd even realised it was his imagination playing wicked tricks on him. With a shake of the head, he let his trembling hand drop back into his lap.

He needed to get a grip.

Not something he had to remind himself of often, but today his emotions were in utter turmoil and his thoughts were tortured by a constant flow of memories. Reminders of a sturdy chestnut haired toddler who used to run with arms outstretched towards him, calling for daddy to pick him up and make him giggle. Of a gifted teenage musician and a talented artist, frowning with concentration as he worked on another masterpiece for his father's approval. Of a flourishing engineer, grinning up at his father over designs for another life saving piece of equipment, and of a compassionate young man with everything to live for.

Fiddling with the expensive cuff links of the crumpled shirt he wore, his mind drifted to his sons. Each of them were special in a different way, products of the love he had shared with Lucille and each of them fused elements of their parents' respective personalities together. He'd held them in his arms as newborn babies and felt that swell of pride that only a father can feel. That sense of awe at the tiny but perfect little bundles of life that he'd been partly responsible for making. From that moment on, he'd promised each of them two things unconditionally: to love them and to protect them.

The declarations of love, Jeff admitted, had been few and far between but in contrast, there had been constant declarations of protection. As babies, crying in his arms, he'd hushed them and rocked them until they'd fallen to sleep in the safety of his embrace. As little boys afraid of the monsters haunting their dreams, he'd hugged them close to him and assured them that they were safe, that daddy would protect them. It carried on into their teenage years too, protecting them from the arrogance and the media attention that came with the wealth that surrounded them. Even into adulthood, he'd made a solemn promise of protection. Not to his sons this time, though, but to the woman who entrusted them to his sole care on her deathbed.

His thoughts lingered on her for awhile. Hands moved to the top drawer of his desk almost of their own volition, it was a familiar ritual. Scotch in one hand, a picture of her in the other. Jeff Tracy wasn't a man prone to self pity but sometimes when he looked into the deep chocolate eyes in the photograph, he couldn't help but wonder how things might've turned out if fate hadn't dealt them that awful blow. He raised the glass to his lips and took a sip. The burn of the scotch was, as usual, a comfort to his pained thoughts.

"Oh, Luce," he sighed as he undid the top button of his shirt and brushed a finger against her face. In his mind, he could smell her musky scent and feel the softness of her skin against his. Memories of the good times they'd shared flashed through his mind: a candlelight diner, complete with soft music and red roses, a late night walk along a warm sandy beach that stretched on for miles, a bouquet of flowers offered with a loving kiss, above the newborn baby she cradled in her arms.

Memories were all he had left of Lucille now but he couldn't live with just memories of Virgil too. He'd lost his wife and he knew he couldn't live through losing a son. He'd been there once already and it was a dark place, one he had no desire to return to.

After Lucille died, he was certain that nothing could ever destroy him so completely but he was wrong. One dreaded phone call from a high ranking WASP officer and a macabre twist of fate had proved him very wrong indeed. He could say with certainty that Lucille's death had been his darkest hour but nothing prepared him for the prospect of losing a son; his world came crashing down around him and he was helpless to stop it.

Just like now.

Well, he wouldn't allow it. He couldn't allow it. Jeff Tracy was a man of action and he wasn't about to let fate deal them another fatal blow. He gulped down the scotch in one mouthful and slammed the top drawer closed, locking the picture and all the memories inside. Now wasn't the time for contemplation. He'd lost everything once before and he was damned if he was going to let it happen all over again.

The crystal tumbler slammed back on the desk with a bang and his hand moved to the radio. "Thunderbird…" he didn't get any further.

"Base from…" John's picture flickered to life. Surprised by the sudden answer, he blinked. "Wow, that was quick," he commented. "I guess it answers my next question, still no news from Scott or Penelope." He spied the empty glass on the desk and noted his father's drawn features. That was all the answer he needed.

"I was just about to call you," Jeff sat up straight in his chair. "Anything to report?" he asked, his tone sharp with military abruptness.

John had heard that tone many times over the years and didn't waste time replying, "Actually, yes," he began. "I'm not sure it's good news though. I've just picked up a radio transmission from Penelope to Parker. She said she didn't have time to explain but she needed him to bring her the truth serum they'd planned to use earlier." He frowned at his father, still uncertain what the new information meant and unwilling to voice what the logical side of his brain was suggesting.

"Truth serum?" Jeff matched his expression, his mind racing to explain Penelope's actions. "Why would they want truth serum?" he muttered.

"Well," John sighed, "I don't know. I can only think of one truth that they're trying to get to the bottom of," he glanced up at his father but kept eye contact brief, turning away before he concluded, "that's where Virgil is." By the way his father nodded a little, turning his frown into a scowl, John knew that he'd already come to the same conclusion he had. And it didn't bode well. "If they still need the serum, then…"

"Then it's not Virgil at the airport but why is his signal coming from there?" Jeff finished the sentence off with a terse tone and an angry shake of the head. "If he's not at the airport, he could be anywhere." John could almost see the cogs turning in his father's brain, weighing up the pros and cons. Indecisiveness was not a character trait for which Jeff Tracy was known. And after a few seconds, when his eyes met John's, the steely gaze was back to being alive with determination and strength. "Have you got the information I asked you about earlier? The contact details for that British Secret Service contact?"

John found himself nodding his head but bit his lips together in uncertainty, "Dad…"

"Have you got it, John?" Jeff spoke over him, his commanding tone demanding an answer.

"Yes, of course I've got it," John dropped his head so that only a mop of blond hair was visible on the screen. "It's right here, but I thought this was a last resort."

"If that signal isn't coming from Virgil, Son, then this is a last resort," Jeff's tone was resolute and firm.

"Dad, we don't know yet," John hated to question his father. He hesitated. "Even if it's not Virgil at the airport then maybe Scott and Penelope will find out where he is."

"Maybe," Jeff ran a hand over his face. "But it's been nearly two hours since the Mole surfaced. Virgil's out there somewhere and whatever the hostage takers had planned has obviously gone wrong. He's hurt, John, and we're running out of time…" he stopped himself and let out a long sigh. "We need to find him," his tone softened, "I'm sure you've been doing as much research as I have on these kinds of situations."

John nodded, but didn't mention the exact figure, the statistics didn't inspire confidence. In fact, according to the average mortality rate, Virgil would be dead already. But then again, this was hardly an average situation. If there was such a thing. "Have Tin-Tin and Brains found anything about this research place?" John asked, realising he was allowing his thoughts to take him off on a tangent that would prove insignificant anyway.

Jeff eyed the Scotch bottle tempting him from his desk but turned his attention back to John, "No, not yet but they're still looking. I don't know what's going on here, Son," he admitted, his tone morose but with an undercurrent of anger. "But it's hidden deep and it smacks of corruption, which is why I may need that information."

John looked away with a pained expression, "This could well compromise our anonymity," he found himself saying, though he was sure his father was more than aware of that. This wasn't an instinctive decision, hours of thought and deliberation had gone into it.

"I'm well aware of that," Jeff replied with a cheerless nod, "and I don't like the idea of us getting involved any more than you do. But the fact is we're already involved, John, and I won't put Virgil's life on the line to preserve relations with the British." There was a determination in his tone that John couldn't help but feel a little reassured to hear. Jeff Tracy was a man who oozed confidence even in the most dire of situations. "Besides," he added with a soft sigh, "the British owe us after that incident on the French Riviera last year. And then there was the episode with Southern; they're not in a position to deny us help."

"I hope you're right," John's eyes were drawn to the print out to his left. A quick search through last year's rescue reports and he'd soon found the file he was looking for. More than that he'd found all the information his father had requested; contact details for a source at the British Secret Service. He diverted his attention to the collection of used coffee mugs he'd acquired over the last few hours. Washing up hadn't been high on his priority list and as a result, it took several attempts to find the warmest cup. He raised it to his lips by means of distraction. It seemed he'd been functioning off nothing but coffee just lately.

"I'm right," Jeff assured him. "It's just getting a little too close for comfort, for my liking. They won't refuse us the help we need. They can't. If the media ever found out about what's been going on at that research center or what's happened in the past, there'd be a public outcry."

"Dad," John was becoming wary, worried that his father might be about to make the same mistake he had been concerned Scott would, only on a larger scale. "They'd just deny it," he shook his head, studying his father and trying to decide whether this was a serious option.

"I know, and right now we've got no proof, but once Gordon's got Cook's evidence back here then we'll have all the proof we need," Jeff replied, almost as if he were thinking aloud. John was beginning to feel alarmed and it showed, Jeff offered him a calm, reassuring smile, "This family has been torn apart once before, John. I won't let that happen again."

"Father, we don't know anything for sure, you're talking about …" John began to speak again, surprised at how cold and calculating his father's tone of voice was. He was cut off by the beeping of an incoming call to Tracy Island. Hoping it might be an update from Scott, he clamped his mouth shut and looked up.

"It's Gordon," Jeff said in a matter of fact tone. John couldn't help but deflate a little. It was past time that they had some news from the airport. "Send me through that information, John," Jeff went on, turning his attention to Gordon's portrait.

"I'll stay on the line," John replied, eyeing the file on the desk alongside him. He wanted to be entirely sure that his father wasn't being blinded by the desperation they all felt to get Virgil back. As much as he hated to think like this, there was a bigger picture here and despite the fact that every fibre of his being was ready to demand the safe return of his brother, his head was telling him that caution should be taken.

Jeff rolled his eyes at John's persistence but he had to admit he admired his astronaut son's ability to avoid the order without becoming downright insubordinate. He knew John was attempting to buy time and that he wanted to discuss the matter further, but Jeff's mind was made up, they'd waited long enough. Virgil was his son and when Jeff had said he'd do anything to protect him he meant it. Reduced to the crude fundamentals, there was only one question at the heart of the matter -- could he sacrifice the life of one of his own for the potential lives of thousands?

"Father, any news?" Gordon's words were testament to his concern for his brother.

Jeff was about to reply when something caught his eye. He turned to see Brains running into the room, carrying a small computer in one hand and waving the other around in a frenzy. His clothes were dishevelled, no doubt from the research marathon he'd found himself running, but his pale features were alight with hope as he hurried forward to Jeff's desk.

"M-M-Mr. T-Tr-Tr-Tr-Tracy!" he exclaimed, his stutter even more pronounced than usual. He screwed his nose up and raised a finger to his trademark blue glasses, levelling them out from where they sat slightly askew across his face. "I err… I think I m-m-may have s-s-something!"

XxxxX

Bright lights edged at his consciousness as his eyelids fluttered, spots of a white so bright that it sent shooting pains into his head. The darkness around him just made the lights brighter, the shadows were stifling and deep in his gut there was the sensation that the walls were moving. That they were coming in on him from all angles, like an underground passageway or a… a tunnel. Bright white lights and tunnels? Was he … dead?

Hearing returned only when he realised there was sound and a sudden memory raced through his mind, "People o-only err… 'see' such things b-b-because it's what their s-s-subconscious wants them to see. Besides, everyone who has err…'s-s-seen' has survived thus the err argument is fundamentally err f-flawed, Virgil." The memory was accompanied by an image of Brains: a bag of saline in one hand and a bunch of gauze dressings in the other, as he helped to restock Thunderbird Two's medical supplies.

So was he alive? He sure as hell didn't feel alive. In fact, he didn't feel anything except cold and sore.

The bright spots of light and the darkness suggested the possibility that his existence may be in jeopardy. The more the light increased, the more pain he felt. Can you feel pain if you're dead? He didn't want to die though, he was certain of that now. His father and brothers would be devastated at the thought, and he detested the idea of never seeing them again with equal vigour.

"You'll make it, Virgil, I know you will," Scott's voice this time and an inspiring sensation that he spoke the truth, that he was nearly there now. Wherever there was. He could do it, if Scott said he could then he could, such was his faith in his older brother.

The warmth was drawing him back though, slowly at first but then with more certainty. The bright lights receded and darkness came up to claim him before reality, or any real conscious thought, had edged itself in. It had been so close that it was almost tangible, but then it disappeared as quickly as it had emerged, leaving only confusion, disorientation and a question mark over his sanity.

It seemed the choice was no longer his to make.

XxxxX

"So, what you're telling me Brains is that these criminals are being tracked?" Jeff Tracy's deep frown was enough to put anyone on edge, but his powerful voice boomed out as if to remind everyone that he was not at all happy with the current situation.

"Y-y-yes Mr. T-Tracy, I believe s-so," Brains stuttered back. He turned back to the laptop he'd placed on the table and positioned it so as Gordon, John and Jeff could all see. "The err…c-criminals are being tr-tracked by a system s-si-similar to the old err H..Home Detention C-C-Curfew scheme or err… 't-t-tagging' as it u-used to be called."

Alan materialised at Gordon's shoulder, wondering what the fuss was about and as was usual for him, his gaze immediately fell to Tin-Tin. It was customary for the assistant engineer to look away or flutter her eyelashes in a coy manoeuvre to avoid his flirtatious smirk. Today though, there was no flirtatious smirk and instead there was an anxious frown, which Tin-Tin returned without hesitation or any effort to avoid.

"It s-seems that the err… people b-behind all th-this are k-keeping tr-track of their ex- err… ex-experiments," attention soon turned back to Brains as he continued. "Now, if we err… l-l-look at the err… m-map here," he pointed to the screen of the tiny computer, "we can err…s-see that the err….ab-abscondees a-are in the Ferryhill area."

"Then why the hell aren't the government doing something about it!" Jeff Tracy erupted in a loud, angry tone, his fists clenched in aggravation. He caught Brains wince out the corner of his eye and tried to curve his frustration. "Aren't they worried that there are three dangerous criminals gallivanting round the country?"

"Y-y-yes M-M-Mr. T-T-Tracy," Brains became more nervous by the second at Jeff's obvious anger and it didn't help his stutter. Deep down he knew the anger was at the situation and not him but it still made him nervous about what he was going to tell them. "I know what they err… they're doing to err… contain the err… situation, see h-here," he pointed to the two flashing dots again, "this i-is where the a-abscondees are…"

"Why only two, Brains?" Alan frowned, interrupting the scientist's explanation and attempting to ignore his father's frustration fuelled outburst. "There were three escapees."

"Well, it err… s-seems that one of the err… devices has either malfunctioned or it's err been eradicated, possibly in the err c-crash," Brains reported. "However," he added quickly, "I err h-have another err th-theory. These d-devices seem to work on a-a s-similar principle to err…the err ETD's we all c-carry. The on-only one major s-significant difference," he paused to look up at the anxious faces to find himself the centre of attention as everyone hung on his every word, "is our err E-ETD's e-emit a err…m-much more p-powerful signal."

"So," John's brow knitted at the new information and he glanced at his father. "If one of our Edible Transmitting Devices was activated from the same person that had one of these devices already, our ETD would override the pre-planted device because it's the stronger signal, right, Brains?" Brains nodded in answer to John's question and the astronaut continued, "So if the signal coming from the airport isn't from Virgil, then that would also explain where the third criminal is and why Scott and Penelope would need the truth serum."

"C-Correct," Brains nodded for a second time. "Or it c-could be that the err… s-signal has err been el-eliminated. These d-devices are in-inserted under the err sk-skin. They're designed to re-release a chemical into the err bloodstream by err… remote access. The ch-chemical released isn't all that err d-d-different from the hydrogenised Xipherous Magnedrate that err we err… u-use ourselves. It has the…err s-same qualities and err from what I can err m-make out, the s-same antidote. But, if a p-person d-d-dies while err…u-using one of the devices, the err…the s-s-signal will stop. The i-idea was that once a p-person was err d-dead, they were no longer d-dangerous."

"And therefore a wasted frequency," John turned his nose up in disgust at the attitude but the logic rang true.

"Nice," Gordon commented with sarcasm. "But there could still be awkward questions asked once they were found, perhaps even more so if they were dead."

"I think the err k-kinds of people that are d-dealing with this aren't the k-kind to w-worry about err… a-awkward q-question, Gordon." Brains paused and shook his head slightly from side to side. "These p-p-people have the authority to m-make awkward q-questions g-go away, if you know wh-what I'm saying."

Brains opened his mouth to go on but Jeff held his hand up. "Okay, so it might not be Virgil at the airport. How accurate is this information?" he frowned.

"Well, Virgil could still be at the airport," John theorised. "He's just not carrying a signal."

"If that were true, John, there'd be no need for truth serum," Jeff replied. "How do you know all this, Brains?" he turned his attention back to the young engineer but the deep frown remained.

Brains looked to each of the faces round the room in turn, his cheeks reddened further as he took each one of the faces that looked at him so expectantly. "I erm…. I can assure you, Mr. T-Tracy, the information is err a-accurate," he hoped that it would be enough to satisfy Jeff Tracy's curiosity but one look at the man who he had come to think of as a friend told him that he would need to explain further. "I err…" Brains paused and ran a hand over his hair in a nervous gesture. "It was err…"

"What is it Brains?" Jeff's tone was stern and demanding of an answer.

"I accidentally err…a-accessed the i-i-information when I was err….t-trying to locate the err…correct body of the S-S-Secret Service who w-would be r-responsible for this err f-facility."

There were a few moments of silence before Alan realised that a diversion was called for. "You hacked into MI 5's computer system?" he asked in semi-feigned disbelief. "Brains!" he exclaimed, letting out a laugh of admiration, "you dog!" He only succeeded in drawing attention to himself with his exaggerated reaction and alerted his father's suspicions immediately.

"It err…wasn't h-hacking, A-Alan," Brains stuttered glancing from Jeff to the others, nervous of how the Tracy patriarch would respond and whether he was believing what he was being told. "It was an err… a-accident."

"Sure it was, Brains," Gordon noticed their father's reaction and forced a grin, "so what else did you find out?" he asked, hoping to move the conversation on and distract their father from realising the truth.

Brains looked once more to Jeff Tracy for an indication of how this revelation was being received. Jeff's hand remained on his chin and he was mesmerised, not only by the engineer's findings but the way his sons were acting. However they came by it, this was still information that they needed to know so, with a raised eyebrow, he encouraged Brains to carry on. The engineer had a feeling that the lack of response was more from shock than anything else. Nevertheless, he continued.

"Well, I err o-only had a err thirty s-second window b-before I w-would have been d-discovered but we…" he stopped, realised what he'd said and glanced at Tin-Tin, "err… I," he covered quickly, "downloaded all the …in-information I err c-could." He gestured to the small computer, "It's … a-all on here. Everything I could f-find about the facility in the err….t-time I had."

Both John and Gordon opened their mouths to respond but weren't fast enough to get a word in before their father spoke. "Brains," Jeff began, still recovering from the shock. "I don't know what to say. I don't condone this behavior, what you did was very dangerous. Supposing you could have somehow been tracked, what would have happened then?"

"Oh, but Mr. Tracy!" Tin-Tin stepped forward, her eyes wide at Jeff's tone of voice, "we had no choice! They… Brains was very careful not to be traced. We couldn't just sit back and do nothing. Virgil is our friend too," she cooed. "And the information we found is extremely valuable."

Alan winced at the uncovered use of the plural again and glanced at his father. As Alan had predicted, Jeff was looking between the feed from Thunderbird Two and the scientific duo in front of him with a sudden expression of comprehension. The look that reminded Alan that his father could sniff out the truth from several miles away.

"I understand that, Tin-Tin, of course I do," Jeff sighed, looking at the young woman with a calculating frown. "And I'm not saying that…." He hesitated, unsure whether to use the plural and confirm he knew the truth or keep up this charade, "… he did the wrong thing. I'm saying that I wish you'd discussed it with me first. Hacking into databases and sneaking around doesn't sit well with me, I'll admit that, but I'll stop at nothing to get my son back. Whoever's in charge of this place clearly isn't prepared to play by the rules, otherwise he or she would have told us the truth in the first place, and I'm more than prepared to employ a little deception of our own."

A sigh of relief was breathed by all.

"But," Jeff went on, putting everyone on tenterhooks once more, "as the head of this organization, I should have been kept informed." He turned his attention back to Brains and the laptop, raising an eyebrow and allowing a smirk to surface. This was what he'd been waiting for: a breakthrough. Time for some action. "Now, Brains, what else have you discovered?" he asked.

"Well, err… there are files here d-d-detailing the facility a-and it's f-funding. I err…a-also picked up on a err…r-r-r-radio transmission," Brains met Jeff's gaze, uncertainty contained in his eyes. "I t-th-think you'd all b-b-better hear i-i-it."

He nodded to Tin-Tin as she adjusted the laptop and it began to emit the sound of radio static. After a short while, the static stopped. Three beeps preceded an incoming call and a voice sounded through the airwaves. It had been synthesised and carried no semblance of origin, sex or emotion. Automatic in it's monotonous sounds and it's harsh, unfeeling qualities: "Mike India Romeo HQ calling Agent Four-Four Foxtrot Lima, are you receiving? This is Mike India Romeo HQ…"

XxxxX

Scott, meanwhile, was finding it increasingly difficult to keep a lid on his temper.

The man in front of him had inflicted the beating that Scott had listened to across the airwaves and was responsible for sliding a scalpel across his brother's throat, coming dangerously close to ending Virgil's life right there and then. He was also a third of the reason as to why they were in this mess in the first place and had yet to show anything that resembled consideration, compassion or remorse. Could Scott really be blamed for feeling such fierce hatred towards him after all that? His conscience was telling him that International Rescue was a peaceful, lifesaving organisation and that the information he wanted could be extracted with more humane methods but his heart was telling him he was more than justified in letting his fists do the talking. Every time he closed his eyes or allowed his mind to wander, the image of Virgil in his kidnappers' clutches came to mind and Scott was reassured in an instant that his heart had the right idea.

"Come on then," Jake taunted from his position between Scott and the wall. "What are you waiting for?"

Scott's grip around the convict's shirt tightened before he let him go with a rough push. Biting his lips together in an effort to curve his desire for retribution, Scott's nostrils flared and he forced his white knuckled fists to his side. "Where is he?" he demanded.

"Oh, come on!" Jake let out a patronising laugh and shook his head, disappointed. "You can do better than that! You're International Rescue!"

Scott didn't trust himself to reply and instead, his eyes danced with menace as he just stared at Jake. The angry tension in the air was heavy and the silence only added to it. Scott's determination not to allow Jake the satisfaction of seeing how riled he felt was only just succeeding in stopping him from lashing out. And it was a good job because if Scott allowed himself just one punch, he doubted he'd be able to stop.

Jake's laugh became hollow and condescending, "You think the silent treatment's going to scare me?"

Scott's jaw hardened and he ground his teeth together, trying to remain in control. He began to consider if John had been right in thinking he couldn't handle his anger but at the time, he'd been blinded by a desperate need to get to Virgil. Only Virgil wasn't here.

"Y'know, your mate Virgil had a nasty habit of going quiet on me too," Jake changed tack. His tone was still demeaning and though Scott realised he was goading him and that he shouldn't bite, resisting his taunts was another matter. "He learnt the hard way not to ignore me. I'm not going to have to teach you the same lesson, am I?"

"I'd like to see you try," Scott growled out.

"Oh…" Jake smiled, clearly enjoying the chance to taunt Scott and took steps towards the door. "You are still in there then. I was beginning to think I'd offended you…"

Scott foiled Jake's attempt to get closer to the door and moved to stand in his path. To anyone else, Scott's six foot muscular frame would be enough to make them think twice, but Jake had other ideas. He stopped in his tracks but made no effort to back off. Instead, he crossed his arms and allowed his grin to widen, not at all intimidated.

"Offended me?" Scott's height advantage meant he was sneering down on the crook. Two could play this game of nonchalance. "Why would you think that?"

Jake frowned and looked at Scott with a bemused expression. He was clearly surprised by Scott's repartee. "Oh, I don't know," he held his arms out and shrugged his shoulders. Turning his back on Scott, he took two or three steps away from the door and then spun round, pivoting on his feet and making a run for it.

It happened fast but thankfully Scott Tracy was the epitome of quick-thinking and intercepted Jake long before he reached the door. "You're not going anywhere until you tell me what I want to know," he took a step forward, forcing Jake to back away. "No more games," Scott menaced. "Where is he?"

Jake took a few moments to weigh up his options, glancing around the room and looking Scott up and down. After a few minutes of contemplation, he looked at Scott and answered. "I told you," he shrugged. "I don't know who you're talking about."

"I think you do," Scott took another step forward. His patience had been stretched to the limit and his clenched fists were shaking by his side.

"Yeah, well, you're wrong," Jake seemed unruffled but there was a flicker of fear in his eyes as he watched Scott step closer. Scott's six foot frame was tense and Parker's thick wool coat bulging round his arms and across his chest just made him look even bigger.

"Am I?" Scott growled, "Then explain to me why Virgil's emergency signal is coming from you."

"Emergency signal?" Jake floundered, putting the pieces of the puzzle together and realising that was how International Rescue had found him. He tried to think of how Virgil had managed it and then he remembered; the strawberry flavoured sweet. He laughed to himself and allowed his head to drop as he shook it from side to side. If he hadn't been so cruel as to deny Virgil that wish, he wouldn't be faced with this problem.

"Something funny?" Scott took another step forward and Jake tried to take another step back but found himself against the wall.

"Yeah," he nodded, "he begged me for that toffee, it was his dying wish. Ironic, huh?"

Scott took in a deep, steadying breath and then blew it out slowly again. Trying to ignore what Jake was inferring, he took the final step towards the criminal, closing the gap between them. "So, you remember him now do you?" eyes alight with fury Scott was shaking with the effort it was taking to control the ire inside him. "Finally, we're making progress."

"Virgil?" Jake tried to ignore Scott's angry tone and the way the International Rescue operative was pinning him against the wall, invading his personal space. Despite his casual manner to the contrary, it was making him feel uncomfortable. "Let me think," Jake would have raised a hand to stroke his chin but Scott's presence so close to him impeded the movement. "Oh yeah, I remember him. How could I forget? Defiant little fellow, wasn't he?" Jake didn't wait for an answer. "It's always so much more entertaining when they put up a fight, much more rewarding."

"Tell me what you've done with him," Scott demanded. Leaning forward he placed a hand against the wall, either side of Jake's shoulders, it wasn't until his palms connected with the cool of the tiles that he realised how hot and sweaty he was. His burly chest heaved with the effort it was taking to contain his burning anger.

"What I've done with him?" Jake mocked, his grin widened as he guffawed. "Enough," he whispered, leaning forward so as his mouth was alongside Scott's ear. "He had this defiant attitude on the outside but inside, he was just a big baby. It didn't take me as long as I thought to break him, he was easy."

Scott let out a growl of pure anger as he took a hold of Jake's shirt pulling him forward and then forcing him against the wall again, "Tell me where he is!" he bellowed. Scott's breathing was quick and deep, he realised that if he didn't get an answer soon then he'd erupt, losing control of his rage.

The shout vibrated off the tiled walls and the porcelain but Jake seemed unconcerned and leant forward as far as he could. "We had a great time! He was so much fun! Begged me to stop even as I was dragging the blade across his skin," Jake was fearless of Scott's intimidation tactics, his tone remained bold and provocative as he continued to taunt. "It's amazing how much damage such a small blade can do. Man, did he bleed!" he crowed. "There was so much blood," Jake's expression falsified a frown, "I don't think I've ever seen that much blood." His cool, calculating gaze rose to meet eyes that struggled to contain the fury burning behind them. "It was fun while it lasted but what can I say, all good things must come to an end, right?"

"Tell me where he is!" Scott's voice was low and he spoke slowly, his tone laced with a menace he didn't realise he possessed. He was tired of playing this game. It didn't seem like he was getting anywhere and Jake was just succeeding in winding him up further. His anger was at an all time high and he knew inside that it was time to walk away before he did something he'd regret. The muscles in his neck were so tight that pain was shooting down his shoulders and his knuckles were white with the grip he held on Jake's shirt.

"I'm a perfectionist you know, I like to know I've done a good job," Jake let out a hollow laugh and looked Scott up and down before staring him in the eye with detached amusement. "I listened to him for a while. Ironic really, the rescuer begging for help in a big puddle of his own blood."

Scott began to shake his head in anger, "You're sick…"

"He was crying," Jake spoke over him, his grin wide and his eyes sparkling with amusement as he lapped up how his words were affecting Scott. "Crying like the pathetic little man he really was."

Scott's fury erupted and he let go of his grip on Jake's shirt, pulling one hand back and allowing the burning anger pumping through his veins to form a fist so hard it could have penetrated stone. His knuckles were white and his arms bulged so much with engorged strength that Parker's coat threatened to tear. "Virgil's ten times the man you could ever be!" he snarled.

Composure was always something that the Tracy family valued. They were all equally as bad when it came to swallowing their pride to apologise for something or to ask for help. In a family full of men, self respect and honour were high up on the list of virtues and though sometimes they could be failings, Jeff Tracy had always believed that self control and discipline were fundamental in the definition of any good man.

The insult to his brother's dignity was the last straw, and Scott launched himself at Jake again. With a guttural cry that made the criminal jump, Scott threw himself at his brother's attacker, a fist poised.

"Stop that at once!"

Scott halted at the sound of the voice, fist stopped in mid-air only inches from its target. He breathed heavily and stared down at Jake, waiting for him to open the eyes he'd clamped shut in anticipation. When Jake finally popped an eye open, his attention was diverted to the white knuckle that was clenched inches in front of his nose. As he focused on Scott's face he smiled, "Saved by the bell," he teased.

The red mist in Scott's eyes intensified and his nostrils flared in time with his breathing, like a bull moments before it's about to charge. He was about to retort when Penelope spoke again.

"I think that's quite enough for now," she remarked, her timing as impeccable as always. Scott could hear her heels on the floor as she walked towards them and wondered how long she'd been there. He hadn't heard her come in and was thankful that it was her and not a member of the public. He glanced at her quickly, just long enough to recognise what she was carrying in her hands.

"You have no idea how lucky you are," Scott heaved with a sinister grin of his own as Penelope neared. In one swift movement, he pushed Jake's head back against the wall and twisted it to one side slightly, exposing his neck. Trapped between Scott's hold and the hard wall, Jake could only struggle and attempt to break free but it was futile. "Now!" Scott instructed as he turned to Penelope.

Penelope held a hand up, the needle high in the air, "My dear boy," she said to Jake, "the less you struggle the less this will hurt." It didn't lessen Jake's resistance and so she stepped forward. "Very well, have it your way," she muttered with a soft shake of the head as she pushed the needle against Jake's skin. Within seconds, she'd emptied the clear liquid into him. "Done," she stood back with a satisfactory grin.

Scott released Jake and took a step back, watching as the hardened criminal slipped to the floor, grasping his neck. "What… What have you done to me?" Jake asked. There was a panic in his eyes that Scott couldn't help but revel in. Disturbing as that was for the eldest of the Tracy son, he was determined that he wouldn't allow compassion to win out for the man who had tormented his brother so cruelly.

"Enough," Scott growled out.

"In approximately…" Penelope paused to consult her diamond studded watch, "…four seconds, the chemical composite I've just injected into your system will begin to affect your brain's ability to function." As Jake's eyes widened in horror, Scott suppressed a smirk and forced his expression to remain solemn. He had to focus; this wasn't about retribution, it was about finding Virgil. Retribution came later. On the floor in front of them, Jake began to panic and pant for breath, clutching his neck in sheer terror as if he could somehow remove the clear liquid now cursing through his system.

"Do not panic," Lady Penelope continued, her tone calm and if anything a little unfeeling. Scott knew she'd always had a soft spot for Virgil and presumed she would be finding this almost as hard as he was. "The chemical reaction taking place in your brain will prevent you from consciously lying." Penelope went on, "Irrespective of how much you desire, or even try to lie, your brain will only be able to formulate true answers. Don't worry, the effects are only short term, but there is plenty more where that came from and we won't hesitate to use it until we've received the answers we want." She paused to glance at her watch again, "Now, let's have a little trial run shall we?"

Jake's wide eyes looked up at her. It was already obvious that the drug was having an effect. His pupils were large as if he was intoxicated and the arm he had clasped to his neck had long since flopped down to his chest. Instead of the come-back that Scott had anticipated, Jake remained mute, further evidence of the drugs power.

"Now, repeat after me 'The sky is pink'," Penelope commanded as she knelt down in front of Jake. Scott followed suit.

Jake shook his head, clenching his jaw closed. Scott went to move forward and encourage some kind of response but Penelope placed a hand on his arm and stopped him. "There'll be no need for that. We are all civilised people and I'm sure Mr Field isn't foolish enough to test my patience."

Still wide eyed, Jake pursed his lips as if he were attempting to speak but it was obvious he was having some difficulty in vocalising what he wanted to say. "P…P…Pi… the…s…sky….i…is b…b..blue," he stuttered out. His pupils dilated further than Scott thought possible as Jake clapped a hand over his mouth in a mix of surprise and disgust. "I didn't want to say that," he breathed. The shock in his eyes was self evident. The serum's effects were successful.

"Excellent!" Penelope enthused, "Now we understand each other."

"Tell us where Virgil is," Scott instructed, moving closer.

Jake shook his head from side to side in an aggressive manner, clamping his jaw closed. His whimpered as he tried to keep himself from divulging the facts and again, clapped both hands over his mouth to prevent any sound from escaping. Scott was quick to step forward and forcefully remove his hands, taking a firm hold of his wrists and holding them out in front of him.

"It's no use exerting yourself in an attempt to lie, the truth will always out. So, come along, where is he?" Penelope was becoming as impatient as Scott.

"J… Jet," Jake groaned as he said the word as if the pain of not being able to taunt the International Rescue operatives was a physical one.

"Jet?" Scott questioned, leaning closer still so as he could hear all of Jake's mumbling. "The jet? He's at the jet?"

"Jet e…e…ex….exploded," Jake gasped out. "Virgil," he wheezed for breath against the effort he was wasting trying to prevent the words from materialising, "t…t…trapped in…in….ins…inside."

Scott's expression darkened further at what Jake was saying, his face like thunder. "What are you saying?" he demanded, his voice rising in volume. His heart began to thud against his chest and his body trembled as his brain made the connection. He denied it, not wanting to recognise the truth. It couldn't be.

"V…Virgil's d…d…dead," Jake panted the words out between haggard breaths and as his eyes met Scott's they were still wide but this time with fear, probably at the lack of control he was exerting over his own body.

Jake's deep breathing was the only thing that broke the eerie silence that followed as Scott and Penelope tried to comprehend what he'd just said.

Penelope was aghast and turned to Scott, concerned how he would react.

Scott began to shake his head from side to side but his eyes didn't leave Jake's. "No," he muttered in disbelief, tension evident in his stance as he released Jake's wrists and pushed himself to his feet. He turned his back on them as the heat built behind his eyes and ran a hand over his face as he took a few steps away. "No," he whispered again but Jake couldn't be lying, they'd given him the truth serum.

Shrugging off Penelope's comforting hand on his shoulder, Scott turned back to Jake and advanced on him with purposeful strides. With a lunge forward, he grasped Jake's lapels, pulling him clean off the floor and forcing him against the wall so hard that his head thudded on the hard tiles for a second time.

"You're lying!" Scott shouted, pushing his face so uncomfortably close to Jake's that the pinned convict tried to turn away. It was futile as Scott took a hold of his chin and forced Jake to face him. "The serum's wearing off, give him more!" he ordered Penelope.

"No!" Jake began to struggle against Scott's hold, desperate to avoid another dose.

"It's highly unlikely that the serum would have worn off after such a short period of time," Penelope said in a soft, almost apologetic tone. In her heart of hearts, she wished she could tell Scott that there was a likelihood Jake could be lying but there was no such possibility.

"Let go of me," Jake squirmed. "Please, you're hurting me!" The comment came in a small, pleading tone that the real Jake would never dream of using, as if to prove Penelope's words.

"Hurting you?" Scott thundered, shaking Jake by the lapels and allowing his anger to surface. "You're damned right I'm hurting you! Now tell me where he is!"

Penelope went to lay a hand on Scott's shoulder, professionalism stopped the tears forming in her eyes but Scott's denial was almost too much for her to bear. She hesitated, not sure what kind of reaction she would get from the irate pilot.

"I t…told you a…al…already," Jake responded, stuttering now as much from fear of what Scott was going to do as the serum. "He's dead."

"Say it again!" Scott demanded with another rough shake. His knuckles were white again, contrasting the red anger in his face. His brow furrowed into a deep scowl and his whole body was shaking as he struggled to keep the strength in his tone.

"H…H….He's dead," Jake repeated again, bracing himself for another shake and to be shoved back against the tiled wall again. To Jake's surprise, Scott pushed him out of the way and threw him to the ground. For a few seconds Jake sat there, taking in the silence and tense sadness that hung in the air. Using the wall to steady him, he managed to pull himself to his feet. He watched Scott with caution as the pilot began to pace the floor, shaking his head in defiance.

Remembering everything that had gone before that moment, how Jake had talked about his brother's ordeal in such crude tones and how he'd constantly referred to Virgil in the past tense. Scott was forced to accept the improbability that Jake was lying. It was simply impossible for him to be dishonest.

Virgil was dead. Gone. More than that, Scott was standing face to face with his brother's murderer.

The anger couldn't be contained.

In Scott's mind, he saw the hero who worked tirelessly alongside him, rescue after rescue. The lifelong companion who was there for him, even at the darkest of times, and the brother who had been his best friend for as long as he'd known. Flashes of older memories raced through his mind, the chestnut haired toddler who used to curl up alongside him once their mother and father had put them both to bed. Of the distraught little boy whose tiny hand had slipped into Scott's as their mother had been lowered into the ground. And who, from that day onwards, Scott had promised to protect.

In a blur of anger, self loathing and sheer devastation, he advanced on Jake with a rock-hard fist. Trembling with hatred, he threw himself at his brother's captor.

This time, not even Penelope's shouts could stop him.


	11. Chapter 11

_**In Too Deep – Chapter Eleven**_

Deep down inside Virgil knew the weightless sensation he found himself experiencing was too good to be true. It was only once he'd realised how soothing the feeling of warm comfort was that it struck him he probably shouldn't feel like that. Especially given the last thing he remembered was cold concrete mere millimetres from his nose, but then Brains and Scott had been there, right?

It had started with the thought that maybe this floating sensation wasn't entirely normal and from that moment feeling spread back into his body far too quickly. As the pain returned, he remembered why he'd allowed unconsciousness to claim him in the first place and craved that detached feeling again. Closing his eyes tighter, he hoped for the darkness to reclaim him. Instead, he was kept in the present by a groaning that seemed to surround him. It wasn't until he tried to open his mouth to rebuke the source of the constant noise that he realised it was him.

He blinked his eyes open, frowning at what he thought was a chair leg a few feet away. His vision wasn't clear enough to see properly and the more he tried to focus, the more his eyes streamed. Blinking furiously, he brought a hand up to rub the moisture away. It was as if he'd just moved from the darkest room in the world into direct sunlight.

He felt his fingers rubbing at his eyes and realised how cool his hands were. He knew that couldn't be a good sign.

Trying not to think about that or the other injuries that were becoming apparent as consciousness returned at a somewhat unhurried pace, Virgil turned to his surroundings. His vision was improving a little, but he was impatient and attempted to sit up. He was quite successful too, until the wave of dizziness struck. The room spun and Virgil concluded that he had, in fact, been laid on his side in something reminiscent of the recovery position.

Grunting back an expletive as the dizziness and pain amalgamated into just plain agony, he tried to stay in what he thought was an upright position.

"Hey, take it easy," the voice penetrated his dazed consciousness only seconds before he felt a pair of hands on his shoulders, guiding him back to the floor.

Now even more confused, Virgil tried to focus on the dark blobs of colour. Flashes of memories came forward but he could only grasp the very fringes and confusion reigned supreme. Scott and Brains had been here, he found himself thinking, did that mean he was safe? The dark blobs of colour were interlaced with spots of fawny colours that resembled someone's face. Lacking any trace of the blue that would indicate Brains' signatory spectacles, that left only one other person to Virgil's memory.

"Scott?" he was surprised how rough his voice sounded and how dry his mouth was. Trying to swallow in order to soothe it was a big mistake. His throat muscles contorted and he began to cough, only succeeding in making things worse. He recognised the vile taste in his mouth as one he'd encountered many times before, usually caused by the remnants of smoke in his nostrils and throat, after he'd been dealing with various burning materials.

"Virgil?" the voice seemed familiar but it was all wrong. Wrong pitch, wrong tone, even the wrong accent. "It's me. It's Luke. Do you remember what happened?"

Opening his eyes, Virgil found his vision had improved again. It had recovered enough, at least, for him to make out the face in front of him now. And, much to his disappointment, it wasn't Scott. The concern in Luke's eyes though, was not dissimilar to the concern Virgil imagined Scott would have been demonstrating at this point, had he been there.

"Luke," Virgil muttered, piecing his memories together little by little. "Luke," he said again, "yeah, I remember. Jet," he managed to push past his dry lips. What he wouldn't have done in that moment for some water, "crashed… exploded."

Where he sat on the floor, Luke began to nod but still his brow creased with a frown of concern. "Yeah, that's right. I think maybe I pushed you to the ground a little too hard, you hit your head."

Virgil was too busy trying to take in his newly returned ability to focus on the objects around him to listen and frowned across at his companion. "Where are we?" he asked.

They were in a small room that looked like it had once been an office. A wooden desk and an old wooden chair remained in the centre and metal, important looking, filing cabinets stood against the walls in no particular pattern. Everything was covered in dust and cobwebs and just breathing it in aggravated Virgil's flagging efforts to breathe. It seemed that Luke was having the same problem and let out a hacking cough of his own, before he continued. "The control tower, I think," his brow furrowed a little, "the building nearest to the runway, anyway."

As Virgil's eyes became accustomed to the level of light in the room, he realised that it wasn't as bright as he had first thought. In fact, the room was dull. Heavy curtains hung from the windows, blocking almost all of the light out. The only exception was the window nearest the door where the curtain rail had come away from the window allowing the thick material to droop down and sunlight to prevail. The way the sunbeams filtered through, picking out the particles of dust that hung in the air, made it impossible to hazard a guess at what time of day it was. Virgil could only draw comfort from the fact that there was daylight outside at all.

"How did we get here?" he heard himself ask, his voice still catching in his throat and making him sound like he had a sixty-a-day habit.

Luke shrugged from above him, "Well, I suppose technically speaking you could add trespassing onto my criminal record," the briefest of smiles tugged his lips into formation. "It wasn't very well boarded up and it seemed the safest option."

"But the last thing I remember," Virgil cleared his throat again, "is passing out by the jet. You carried me here?"

"Carried?" Luke laughed, loud enough that the sound hurt Virgil's head, he took the volume down a notch when he saw Virgil wince. "Sorry to disappoint but I'm not the Incredible Hulk, I think dragged would be a better description."

Virgil tried to work out if that was amusement or sarcasm in his companion's tone but didn't reach a conclusion, his capacity to think was still greatly impaired. "Are you okay?" Virgil gestured to where Luke sat beside him, massaging his shoulder.

Luke stretched and rotated his neck, eliciting a few ominous cracks. "Fine," he sighed. "Think I might've pulled something, I'm more worried about you. You started to come round once we got inside but then you passed out." He turned away and Virgil watched as he pulled a green plastic box across the room towards them. There was a scraping sound as it slid across the floor, collecting the dust with it and leaving behind the true colour of the varnished wood. "You're bleeding again," Luke gestured to the bandages around Virgil's wrists, which were now soaked through with blood. Virgil could feel the dressing across his neck was in pretty much the same state. "Most of the other rooms are locked but I found this in the corridor," he coughed as he opened the lid of the box, only to be greeted by a cloud of dust. "I don't know if there's anything we can use…" he muttered as he began rummaging around.

Virgil allowed his eyes to slip closed, still piecing memories together. His head was pounding and even where he wasn't cut and bruised, he was sore. Then suddenly, it hit him that there was still someone unaccounted for. His eyes snapped open, "Billy?" he asked, not needing to expand further.

Luke offered him a sad shake of the head, "He was too close to the jet when it exploded. He's dead."

Virgil frowned, "He was right behind us," he muttered. He didn't even register that Luke had taken his wrist and was adding more bandages to the accumulation already there. His mind raced, trying to think of something to say to hide his relief. "I'm sorry," he breathed out, disgusted at just how thankful he felt that Billy wasn't there to sway Luke's judgement anymore. It was a strange feeling as the tension evaporated from his shoulders but he was disturbed to discover that he couldn't drum up an ounce of compassion for the dead criminal. And that wasn't the kind of man Virgil Tracy was.

"Don't be," Luke shrugged turning his attention to Virgil's other wrist, "I'm not. Now, hold still."

Virgil didn't need telling twice and settled back down, allowing his eyes to slip shut once more. The headache and his sluggish thinking bore all the signs of a concussion and though he hated to admit it, he had to concentrate just to remember things. He started to question himself, things he should know: who was the President? What year was it? When was his birthday? The fact that he had to think before answering had him a little worried. He was so deep in thought that his intuitive reaction when he felt Luke's hand on his chin was to move away with a sharp, defensive jolt. "Sorry," he apologised, "it's sore, that's all." Virgil offered the lie with a shaky smile and hoped Luke would believe that it was the pain he was avoiding and not his touch.

"We need to get in contact with Thunderbird Five," Virgil muttered, more to himself than Luke. Thinking aloud was the only way he could concentrate without getting distracted by the fatigue his body was forcing on him. "This is a control tower, right?" he didn't wait for an answer. "There must be a…" he stopped to ride out the pain emanating from his neck, Luke offered him an apologetic smile, "…a radio in here somewhere," Virgil finished.

Luke sat back and shook his head, rummaging in the green box, "I checked all the other rooms, they're locked. I suppose I could look upstairs." He turned his attention back to Virgil's neck.

Virgil nodded, hampered by Luke's hands, "Yeah, we need to get in touch with John. He can get us help."

"Who's John?" Luke asked.

"John's my bro…" Virgil stopped himself before he said too much. The feeling of Luke's careworn hands round his neck triggered memories Virgil wasn't enthusiastic to revisit. It took so much effort to ignore the rising apprehension that the words very nearly slipped out unchecked. He froze, unsure whether Luke had realised his mistake.

"Brother?" Luke sat back, looking Virgil in the eye. When Virgil made no effort to reply, Luke let out a deep breath, "Look Virgil, I'm trusting you; you said you could help me and I believed you. But it works both ways and you have to trust me too." He paused and shook his head, throwing down part of the bandage he'd been using. "If you don't trust me then we're better off going our separate ways now, before things get too complicated."

The air between them had been so relaxed earlier that the sudden change in Luke's tone of voice was a surprise. "I'm sorry," Virgil attempted to swallow again. He doubted Luke had really considered what he was saying. Neither of them had a chance on their own but even so, Luke raised a valid point. "I'm sorry," Virgil repeated, not knowing what else to say but at the same time, feeling it was inadequate.

The deep scowl on Luke's features making no indication it was about to lift, told Virgil he'd have to do better than that. "What's the big secret? And who the hell do you think I'm going to tell anyway? Hmm?" Virgil winced at the tone of Luke's voice. He was obviously cross and Virgil couldn't blame him but he didn't have the energy to interrupt the tirade. "The Government? MI-bloody-Five? Would that be before or after they arrest me and lock me up? I'm putting everything on the line here! If they catch me now, I'm going back to that hell hole for a long time." Luke paused to shake his head. "I couldn't handle that. I just couldn't."

"I said I'm sorry," Virgil tried to remain calm but it was becoming more and more obvious that Luke wasn't as relaxed as he came across. In fact, the way he spoke bordered on ranting and it reminded Virgil of something he saw a lot of in his field of work; fear. "Luke," he sighed and a cough trembled through his chest, "I know you're scared."

"I'm not scared!" Luke rebuffed, "I'm just… I … I need to know I'm doing the right thing."

Virgil empathised with him but he also knew that Luke still played a pivotal role in his chances of survival. More than that, Virgil was acutely aware that had it not been for Luke's actions in the jet, he would have been right at the centre of that fireball. He owed his life to the fearful man sat beside him. "You are doing the right thing," Virgil told him. "Luke, you saved my life and you got me to safety. I said I'll do everything I can to help you and I will, but we have to work together."

Luke swallowed and seemed to calm down a little. "I can't go back to that place, Virgil," his tone was low, haunted by the same horror that was reflected in his eyes, "I just can't. Not after coming this far, being so close."

"I know and you won't have to, we'll help you. I promise you but you've just got to trust me," Virgil recoiled at the words and then amended them to, "we have to trust each other."

"So," Luke nodded but still seemed uncertain as he raised his gaze to meet Virgil's, "John's your brother? What's the big deal about that? You already told me about your brother."

Even though Virgil wanted to answer, he still found himself hesitating. There was a little voice in the back of his head, embedded into his mind when International Rescue had begun, and right now, it was reminding him how heavy the burden of secrecy could be. Equally, he knew that he couldn't expect Luke to trust him if he didn't show his own trust. "Yes, John's my brother," he said in reply, slowly nodding his head. Even though he trusted Luke, it felt so wrong to admit it aloud but he closed his eyes and went on, "He's also International Rescue's space monitor."

Luke took in a deep breath, despite the few moments he needed to take in the revelation, he felt like they'd made progress, "Wow, talk about keeping it in the family." Virgil could feel himself reddening at the comment, wondering if Luke had any idea of the real truth. "Okay, so John's our man. How do we get in contact with him?"

"The same way you did before," Virgil replied. He watched Luke's reaction carefully but the abscondee seemed to be taking it all in his stride. "It was you who called us, wasn't it?"

Luke nodded, sitting back and allowing the green box to fall shut producing another cloud of dust. "Well, if it had been up to Hunt or Foster, they'd have just left us down there to die."

"The scientist seemed very concerned about you, so I'm told," Virgil frowned, wondering if his distorted thinking was responsible for him not recognising the other name. "Foster? Who's Foster?"

Luke shook his head and pulled himself to his feet with a sigh, "Good question. We think Foster's just an alias. Look, it's a long story. I think we should get some help first." He gestured to the door, "I'll take a look upstairs, if I find a radio, what should I say?"

As Luke began to move, Virgil tried to push himself up. "I'll come with you," he breathed out, attempting to disregard the pain movement was causing. "Help me up," he held a hand out to Luke, palm to one side, waiting for his companion to help him to his feet.

"I don't think that's such a good idea," Luke frowned. Realising that Virgil was going to struggle to his feet, with or without the help, he begrudgingly held a steadying arm out. Virgil grasped it and allowed himself to lean on the proffered support, surprised that his legs didn't feel his own. "Look, you can hardly stand up. I'll go and look for a radio, you sit here. You'll never make it up the stairs anyway."

"I'm fine," Virgil replied in an attempt to dismiss Luke's concern. However, the shake of the head that he accompanied the comment was too much for him and the room began to spin out of control. Virgil closed his eyes against the blurring of dowdy colours and felt himself begin to fall. He grunted as he felt arms tightening round his chest on bruises that had already started to colour.

"Whoa!" Luke's attempts to stop Virgil falling very nearly caused them both to topple over, "Virgil…"

"Just give me a minute," Virgil spoke over him, half hoping he'd shut up, his voice seemed so loud. "I'll be okay."

"No, you won't," Luke's tone was firm, as if he were chastising a naughty child, and Virgil felt embarrassed that he was so weak. "You're going to sit here and wait," Luke instructed, taking control and making Virgil feel even worse. As far as he was concerned it was humiliating to be so reliant on someone in this kind of situation. Half of him was too exhausted to attempt the climb up the stairs but the other, more defiant half told him that he was International Rescue and he should never give up. Sitting by and letting Luke do all the work certainly felt like giving up. Luke hadn't noticed the awkwardness Virgil felt and went on, "I'm not surprised those wounds haven't stopped bleeding, the way you've been going on. You need to stay still."

"Luke…" Virgil tried to argue, but he found himself blinking in an effort to focus. Perhaps the concussion was worse than he'd first thought. How many times had he banged his head? Was that the cause of the loss of consciousness or had he just passed out?

"No arguments!" Luke smiled, "Escaping the jet will have opened them up and I don't want you bleeding to death before I've been reunited with my family."

Virgil wasn't sure if that was supposed to reassure him or not. If Luke's desire to help him survive was born only through some kind of selfish preservation instinct, then where exactly did that leave him? And what happened to the trust they'd just placed in each other?

"I'm joking," Luke's tone was a little troubled and Virgil realised it was probably at the fact that he'd had to add that comment. "Trust, remember?"

Virgil nodded, "Trust." He let out a deep breath and sat back, resting his head on the desk Luke had propped him up against. "Tell John where we are and that I'm okay but we need help," his eyes blinked closed of their own accord. "He'll tell you what to do."

Luke frowned in concentration as he memorised the instructions. "You've gone really pale, are you going to be alright?" There was concern in his voice that Virgil thought was genuine. But then again, his head was still pounding and the queasiness he felt didn't make for sound judgement.

"I'll be fine," he managed to cough out.

As Luke nodded his head and offered a promise that he wouldn't be too long, Virgil found himself wondering if perhaps he'd said too much. Though a certain amount of the tension between them had evaporated, there was still a degree of apprehension. After all, they only had each other's word to rely on. What if Luke wasn't who he said he was? No, Virgil dismissed that thought quickly. The way Luke had spoken about his family and the depth of emotion in his eyes couldn't have been forged. No, he told himself, he trusted Luke and he was sure that his trust wasn't misplaced. His only hope now was that Luke trusted him as much he trusted Luke.

XxxxX

Back on Tracy Island, silence reigned amongst the family members listening to the recording. Tin-Tin's eyes found Alan's and they held their own private conversation, exchanging anxieties and some much needed support. Gordon found himself struggling to keep Thunderbird Two steady as she hovered high over England and reached for the autopilot settings in order to give Brains' findings one hundred percent of his attention. And John's gaze found his father's, concerned at just what it was Brains had discovered.

The recording continued.

"Mike India Romeo HQ, this is Agent Four-Four Foxtrot Lima receiving, go ahead, Ma'am," the responding voice was gruff but held an element of alarm. Whether it stemmed from fear of the superior voice or fear of the situation, no one was sure.

"I know that voice!" John muttered, shocked at the familiarity but unable to place it.

"Hush, John!" Jeff reprimanded him as he strained in his chair to hear.

"Four, where the devil have you been? I've been trying to contact you for over two hours!" the first caller, HQ, exclaimed under the guise of an artificial voice. "What on earth is going on?"

"Ma'am," Four responded, remorse in his tone, "we've had an incident, an explosion at the centre. All personnel were evacuated, however, three prisoners managed to abscond. I've activated their remote beacons and am in the process of recapturing them. I've also taken the liberty of deploying the self destruct protocol at the base. There's nothing left there now and no chance of any further repercussions. It's all under control." Judging by the tremor in the Englishman's voice, it didn't sound like he was at all confident in that. Either that or he was afraid of how his superior would respond. High up on Thunderbird Five, John was piecing together the implications of a self-destruct protocol and feeling strangely relieved that he might not have missed any prior signs of an explosion earlier.

"Under control?" HQ replied in a way that suggested there were elements of anger and disbelief in the computerised response. "Under control!" the mundane voice repeated. "If it's as under control as you claim, then why the hell have I just had to put the dampeners on a police investigation into International Rescue, of all people! And, whilst we're at it, perhaps you can explain why one of the scientists in your charge has a bullet in his chest, hmm?"

"Ma'am," there was an audible gulp on the line. "Dr Hunt was left to see that the three absentees returned to the hospital in Kent. I can only assume he was injured as the prisoners made their escape. I heard nothing from him except a brief call to say that everything was under control. I was very busy at the time."

"Cook said he made a call when they were hiding in the tent. That must have been right before he was shot!" Alan exclaimed, putting the puzzle together as the pieces materialised. Like John had been before him, he was silenced by his father as attention in the room focussed on the recording.

"Where are you now, Four?" HQ sounded brusque and powerful. Displeasure at the events was obvious even in the simulated, cold tones of a machine.

"I've tracked them to Yorkshire, an old RAF base at Ferryhill so I'm heading there now, Ma'am. I'm holding back police presence and emergency personnel for now, I'm unaware of the specifics but that's definitely where both the signals are coming from. The third never materialised, I assume he perished in the self destruct explosion at the centre." Four didn't seem to lose any of the anxiety in his tone but neither did he seem upset at the assumed death. He continued, quiet and uncertain, "I can still recapture the experiments, Ma'am," there was an element of pleading in his voice that didn't go unnoticed, "I understand that they're too valuable to lose."

"Losing the experiments will be the last of our problems if anyone else were to find out. Now, please tell me International Rescue aren't involved in this debacle," the false tone of voice dared her colleague to tell her otherwise. HQ seemed to wield command with a ruthlessness that made John wonder what would happen when Four told the truth about their involvement.

"The prisoners called them out, Ma'am, whilst they were trapped underground. We had no idea International Rescue were on their way until they contacted us," Four responded, quick to deny his part in it. "As far as I'm aware, they're not on the scene any longer. When I activated the tracking systems the two signals were coming from Ferryhill and I assume they're alone."

"Well, how the devil did they get to Ferryhill so quickly?" HQ demanded an answer.

"Well, Ma'am, I had business to attend to in Kent. I left Dr Hunt in command and it was only when he didn't call back that I realised what had happened," Four seemed reluctant to admit the sequence of events and given HQ's apparent power, it wasn't surprising. Jeff frowned, piecing together the events with slow precision. John, meanwhile, desperately tried to place Four's voice.

"Damn it, Four! It's your job to know, to be on top of situations like this!" HQ was irate now, in the background there was the sound of a fist impacting against wood but it was distorted by the way the sounds had been warped. Alan and Gordon turned to look at each other, exchanging a worried expression. "What exactly do International Rescue know?."

"They know nothing, Ma'am," Four denied within seconds of the question being asked. "As far as they were aware the prisoners were scientists. They had no reason to suspect any different, I'm sure of it."

"Good, good, you'd better be damned sure." HQ responded, "But how did they come to drop Hunt off at the Hospital?"

"Well, Ma'am, they believed the prisoners were scientists, and I'm certain they're no longer on the scene…" Four replied, unease in his tone. "Besides that Ma'am, these prisoners are dangerous men and we don't know what they told International Rescue. The subjects must've convinced International Rescue that Hunt had been injured legitimately, otherwise they'd have called the police in and I have no record of that." His tone became convincing, "They can be very persuasive when they want to be."

"Hmm," HQ growl came through in a distorted pitch, "That's what's worrying me. The last thing we need is more complications. The hospital called the police in but I've sent a few of our boys down there to handle it. Now, listen to me, Four, it is essential that all loose ends are tied up, whatever their affiliation with other organisations. Do we understand each other?" HQ's processed tone was cold and harsh. There wasn't an ounce of compassion for any innocent bystanders caught up in the affair.

"I understand, Ma'am," Four replied again. "Absolutely no loose ends. Two-One can never know."

"You're damned right Two-One can never know! Neither can the Cabinet or Welsh Parliament!" HQ responded. "Now, Four, I want you to clear up this shambles and then I don't want to hear from you again."

"Yes, Ma'am," Four responded, his tone contrite. "I'll recapture the two outstanding experiments and head back to Kent, and then I'll tie up any loose ends from there."

HQ's artificial voice was still commanding. "I think you've done quite enough," it snapped. "I'll make the necessary arrangements for Hunt and the situation in Kent, in the meantime I want you to clear this damned disgrace of a mess up. Do you hear me?"

"Yes, Ma'am," came the predictable response.

"There's too much on the line here. If anyone else found out about our venture the consequences would be disastrous. Your mission is no longer seek and recapture, it is destroy. Do you copy?" HQ ordered.

"Yes, Ma'am," Four responded, obedient and eager to make amends for his previous discrepancies. "Understood; the focus of the mission is now to terminate."

"Terminate," was HQ's final responded.

"Very Good, Ma'am, Four-Four Foxtrot Lima, out." The recording ended as abruptly as it had begun and left a stunned silence in its wake.

Tin-Tin reached forward to attend to the computer as the radio static returned. She silenced it with the ease of familiarity and turned back to the tense quiet in the room. Seconds passed and still no-one spoke as the gravity of the conversation began to sink in.

Jeff was the first to recover and swiped a hand over his forehead, letting out a sigh, "How long ago was this, Brains?"

"Umm…" Brains looked to Tin-Tin, who was reddening.

Glancing at her watch she stepped forward, "About twenty minutes ago, Mr Tracy," she gulped, hoping he wouldn't connect her to the incident as her eyes darted to meet Alan's.

"Okay, so we know that this spy, Four, or whoever he is…" Jeff whipped a hand through the air in dismissal, "is now on the criminals' trail." He tried to clarify their position in his own mind. "And there's a strong possibility that Virgil's ETD could be over-riding the third signal, but if that's the case, then we don't know where Virgil is."

"So," Gordon took up his train of thought, "for all we know this Four person could be heading to where the signals are coming from…. Ferryhill. Presuming Virgil is there with them, and not at the airport, he could be in danger." He felt the atmosphere become heavy at his suggestion. "You all heard what that guy said, he's going to destroy these prisoners and if he finds Virgil with them, I don't think he'll have any doubts about killing Virgil too."

"You're right, Gordon," Jeff nodded, his frown cementing into a deep scowl of anxiety. "Virgil has to be with them, otherwise he would have made contact somehow. It's even more important now that we get to him, and quickly." He looked around the room at the faces reflecting all his anxieties, "John, we need to contact Scott and warn him about this guy. We don't know what kind of time-frame he's working to. This recording was tapped twenty minutes ago, but we don't know how far off Ferryhill he was when it was made. If this Four guy gets there, I don't think he'll think twice about taking action."

John nodded, "I'll get right on it but Scott's already inside the airport with Penelope." He paused, "Y'know we could be blowing this all out of proportion. With a bit of luck Scott's with Virgil now at the airport."

"Come on, John," Alan countered, "you can't believe that. Why would they need truth serum? And why hasn't Scott contacted us to tell us that?" he grumbled.

Jeff heaved a sigh but nodded, "Alan's right, but we have to cover every angle and that includes the possibility of Virgil not being at the crash site."

"But, Father, if he's not at the crash site and he's not at the airport then he could be anywhere!" Gordon cried out in despair.

"No," Jeff shook his head. "He has to still be with at least one of criminals, either at the airport or at the crash site."

"Unless he's escaped, Dad," John put in, raising the idea. "If he had the opportunity, he'd take it, I know he would."

"But he's injured," Jeff's frown deepened further and he took a few moments to try to think clearly. "Besides, even if he did escape, the first thing he'd do is contact us somehow." Taking his glasses off and rubbing his fingers across his lips in a thoughtful gesture, Jeff tried to take a bit of control back from the chaos he felt encircled them. "Alright, let's be logical. Do we know how these tracking devices work, Brains? Was there any other information?"

He turned his attention to Brains and Tin-Tin who were stood together in shifty silence. It was obvious to him from the guilty expression on Tin-Tin's face and the way Brains fumbled that they both felt incredibly uncomfortable. Putting the pieces of the puzzle together, Jeff knew that computer hacking, whilst being within Brains' power, was not something that the engineer would even entertain on moral grounds. Any other situation and he would have assumed Tin-Tin's principles would prevail too, but knowing that the young assistant engineer had a close relationship with all his sons, he couldn't be sure she was innocent.

A glance at Alan and Gordon, who were both anticipating what their father was thinking and looking decidedly nervous, and Jeff's mind was made up. He knew his youngest sons would stop at nothing when it came to gaining information about Virgil's whereabouts, even if that including convincing Tin-Tin to help or tutoring her in what she had to do. Given the situation, Tin-Tin could be swayed without much resistance, and Jeff didn't doubt that Brains would join in his youngest sons' efforts to protect her from the consequences of her actions.

"Not e-exactly, Mr. Tracy," Brains fidgeted on the sofa he'd perched on during the recording. "We've been doing a err…l-l-little research into MI-5. This recording was err attached to a decoy m-m-message. You're h-hearing it at err…a certain frequency, otherwise it err… j-just sounds like st-static." He gestured to Tin-Tin and beckoned her forward, "Go ahead err…T-Tin-Tin."

"Well, as you know, we assumed that MI 5 were the relevant body to contact," she held a pen in one hand as she spread her hands out, "but we were wrong." She took a moment to look at the frowns that were now staring at her in a cross between confusion and disbelief, Jeff Tracy sporting the deepest of them all. "We assumed that the Research Center in Wales was controlled by MI 5 because it was a top secret government project but it isn't. Well at least, not MI 5 in the sense we thought. According to the files…." She glanced up to Alan and Gordon before lowering her head and continuing, "…Brains managed to access, the Research Center was funded by a branch of MI 5 known as MI R; Military Intelligence Research. It was founded during the Second World War and then supposedly disbanded when the need for weapons testing after the war became redundant. It seems it wasn't disbanded as absolutely as the paperwork would have you believe. It's so top secret that we don't think even Sir William Fraser, the current director general of the British Secret Service is aware it exists."

"I wish we'd known this from the start, Tin-Tin," Jeff stopped her with a confused expression and an exasperated shake of the head. "We're in a hell of a lot deeper then we could have ever imagined."

With a nod of the head, Tin-Tin agreed, "The Center and MI R were both re-constructed and awarded funding again in the early twenty first century, during the so called War on Terror. After the war ended, the funding was never revoked but MI R fabricated its own disbandment. The backing now comes directly out of the Secret Service budget from none other than the Home Secretary," Tin-Tin's eyes flicked up to Jeff's as she paused.

Jeff shook his head as he attempted to comprehend all the new information this breakthrough had brought forth. This changed everything; not only were they deep into the corrupt and clandestine affairs of the British, they were up to their neck in classified information that, allegedly, not even some of the country's top politicians knew about. What was he to do?

Any other time, decision making was his forte, after all, that's where Scott got it from, right? Not today though. His decision today was crucial to the survival of his son, not to mention the three other sons staring at him and putting all their faith in him to come up with an answer. Whichever way he turned someone lost out; there was no answer to this and if there wasn't an answer, then he simply had to prioritise what was most important. And there was one thing that stood out as being most important in his book.

"So, what you're saying is that the Home Secretary knows about this?" he asked, reeling from the revelation. "Okay," he leant forward in his chair, attempting to stay calm and come to an important decision. "John," he asked, as he rubbed at his bleary eyes, "you said you recognized one of the voices, do you know where from?"

John shrugged, trying to pull the memory from his mind but it wouldn't come, "No, I'm sorry, Dad, it's familiar, I'm sure of it. I'm just not sure where I've heard it, maybe on a past rescue. I'll check the records." He was frustrated at his inability to remember and let out a low growl of annoyance as he closed his eyes. "Hold up, Parker's calling in," he turned away from the console to answer Parker's incoming call.

"Okay, Alan, Hunt made a phone call, how?" Jeff frowned, turning his attention to the other monitor's live feed of his sons.

"Yeah, Dad," Alan nodded, "Cook said that the scientist was talking into a pen after the Mole surfaced and we'd all gone outside. He thought Hunt was just mumbling to himself to begin with but then he realized that he was actually talking to someone." Alan paused and offered his father up a pained expression, "I should have said something before, I'm sorry, Father, but I thought Cook was just making it up, you know how he is."

"Well, we know now that's the important thing." Jeff turned in his chair to face the remaining occupants, "Brains, Tin-Tin, do you think it's safe to conclude that the person at the airport is not Virgil?"

"I do," John returned to the conversation. "Parker said that Penelope and Scott are in there right now with one of the prisoners. It's not Virgil at the airport."

"Damn it!" Gordon exclaimed. Somewhere behind him the sentiment was echoed as Alan made his opinion known.

"Alright, so he's not at the airport, he's got to be at Ferryhill, there's nowhere else." Jeff thought aloud.

"The other err… two signals were coming f-f-from Ferryhill when I err… tapped into this err… c-c-conversation, Mr. T-Tracy," Brains glanced at his watch." I'd err strongly s-s-suggest we start looking for Virgil there but..."

"But that's where this Four guy is heading too," Jeff's tone and expression where grim as he centred his attention on the feed coming from Thunderbird Two. "Okay, Gordon," Jeff looked up at his aquanaut son. It seemed so wrong to see the background of Thunderbird Two behind him but Jeff shut his mind to that and began to do what he always did - take control. "Where are you now?" he asked, placing his glasses back on and sitting a little straighter.

"Reference 42984/ 976, Father, I'm hovering not far from the Welsh border," Gordon informed him.

"Right," Jeff took in a deep breath and puffed his chest out. He was the commander of International Rescue and his son was out there desperately in need of rescuing. He wasn't about to let him down. "The way I see it, Virgil was definitely on that jet. The jet crashed at Ferryhill so that's the last place we know for sure he was and that's where we start looking. Gordon, Alan, I want you to head to the crash site and search the surrounding areas for anything or anyone that could be Virgil. Use the heat radar, body sonar equipment, use anything you can get your hands on but be careful, we have to presume that at least two of these guys are still at the scene with this Four guy on his way too. John, I need you to keep an ear out in case anyone finds Virgil or reports it to the emergency services. I also need to know the moment Scott or Penelope calls in."

"Sure," John nodded "but that guy said in the recording he's holding back the emergency services, my guess is someone's already reported the crash."

"Then make sure they stay away, John," Jeff replied. "The last thing we need is more complications."

"Yes, Sir," John frowned as Gordon and Alan repeated the affirmative response with an "FAB".

"Brains, is it possible for you to get back into this system you accidentally accessed?" Jeff went on to ask with a raised eyebrow. He was somewhere between amusement and surprise at the fact that he was expected to accept Brains alleged involvement but he'd have time to deal with that later and also get to the bottom of just what had happened. He had a sneaking suspicion that Brains was an innocent party.

"N-No, M-Mr. Tracy," Brains replied with a shake of the head, "it'd be err… t-too risky. We'd be taking a ch-chance and though the err… Secret Service aren't as err… w-well advanced technologically as err u-us, we shouldn't err under-underestimate them. I may be able to err… f-find the f-frequency they're transmitting on."

"Okay, do it. Then work on what you have already. Tin-Tin, you do everything you can to help him. See if you can narrow down the search parameters or work out which device corresponds to which offender, anything. At least then we might have a better idea of who we're dealing with," Jeff looked up as Kyrano walked towards his desk. "Yes, Kyrano?"

"Mr. Tracy," the Malaysian retainer bowed his head, "I am sorry to interrupt, Sir, but Mrs. Tracy is once again on the video-phone and is requesting you speak with her."

Jeff let out an aggrieved sigh, "Okay, Kyrano. I'll be there in a second." He turned back to the faces that surrounded him and slowly made eye contact with each one of them. Family and friends, united with one common goal, finding Virgil. "Okay, be careful," were his final words as the radio links both shut down. Tin-Tin and Brains began to pack away the computer as Jeff stood from behind his desk and headed towards his study. He stopped only to ask Kyrano to man the fort at his desk and to place his hand on Brains' back. Looking the scientist in the eye, he gave his shoulder a soft squeeze, hopefully one of reassurance, and smiled at Tin-Tin, "Good work you two, well done."

Heading to speak with his mother, his mind lingered on the fact that no-one had raised the possibility that Virgil might not have made it out of the jet alive.

XxxxX

Jake felt a whoosh of air as a blur of colour flashed by his face. The cool of the propelled air as it whipped past his nose would have made him shudder, but he didn't have time. Instinct took over and he closed his eyes, turning his head to one side, away from the sudden movement.

Chaos ensued.

Penelope's plea to stop clashed with Scott's loud grunt of effort as he swung his fist in Jake's direction.

There was an almighty bang, causing Jake to wince, and then nothing. Confused by the lack of pain emanating from his body, he tried to relax and reassess the situation. He could hear the rushed tapping of Penelope's shoes come to a stop nearby and he could feel Scott's hot breath on his face but he daren't open his eyes.

"This isn't going to get us anywhere," Penelope tried to adopt a soothing tone but it sounded more aggravated then caring. Jake didn't believe for one second she was on his side and so her tone of voice just made him more nervous about what Scott was capable of doing.

Waiting until Scott's breathing had showed signs of steadying, Jake eventually popped an eye open. Veins protruding from the pilot's temple were pulsating in a steady rhythm and the white of his eyes were pink from the stress of keeping his anger at bay. Jake took one look at his eyes, so full of fury, and then moved to the source of the shadow that lay across his face. Slowly Scott's arm came into focus, tense muscle and the deep blue of the bulging veins in his wrist. Jake's gaze travelled down the limb to where it was embedded in the tiled wall. Small lines of blood began to give the buried fist a marbled look from where the fractured tile had lacerated the skin but when Jake looked back to Scott, he doubted that the pilot had even noticed.

Too irate to feel any real hurt, Scott ignored the scratches and levelled his gaze on something that was considerably more painful.

Extracting himself from the wall with the sound of shattered tile falling to the floor, Scott moved one hand to Jake's chest whilst the other reached down to his pocket and the piece of yellow material that had emerged. With a sharp flick of the wrist he pulled the piece of fabric out, disheartened to find it was exactly what he thought it was; Virgil's sash.

"What's this?" Scott asked, doing his best to keep the anger and vigour in his voice but his fury had erupted now, instead he sounded commanding but calmer.

Jake hesitated, watching Scott's expression change and his eyes flicker with distress. "I l-l-like to k-k-keep a m--m," he stopped to gain the required will to break through the waning effects of the serum, "m-m-memento," he finished with a sparkle of satisfaction. He wanted to smirk in Scott's face and tell him that it was a trophy. His self preservations instincts were kicking in, though, and telling that the last thing he wanted was to upset Scott anymore.

"You've got no right to have this," Scott scowled. He stared down at the sash in his hands, blood spattered and grubby, and the anger in him faded to nothing. No anger, no fury, no sympathy and no hurt. He just felt empty. His world had just been turned upside down. The rational side of his brain was telling him that Virgil could very well still be out there alive somewhere, that the truth serum wasn't fool-proof and that he shouldn't give up. At the same time an equal part of him was trying hard to comprehend that if Jake couldn't lie then his brother was dead and the sash he held in his hands was all he had left.

Scott concealed the emotions well but Jake was an expert in hiding how he truly felt and grasped the opportunity with both hands. With Scott preoccupied with his new found discovery, Jake formed tight fists with both his hands and, as Scott looked back up at him to speak again, he took his chance to pounce. Throwing himself forward, Jake sent his right fist towards Scott's abdomen with all his might, forcing the pilot backwards. As Scott doubled over, he sent the left fist flying too this time connecting with Scott's jaw.

Taken aback by the blow, Scott spun round and crashed to the floor on all fours, gasping for breath as Jake made for the door.

"Scott!" Penelope rushed to his side, "Are you alright?"

Scott was quick to brush off her concern, "I'm fine," he snapped, bringing a hand up to his cut lip. "Go after him!" he urged, trying to catch his breath, "Go!" Penelope eyed him up and down, as if to check for herself that he wasn't more injured then he was making out. She then gave him a quick nod and acquiesced to his orders, making a run for the door whilst raising her watch to call Parker.

Heaving a sigh as he attempted to control his breathing, Scott tried to follow her but he made the mistake of putting pressure on his battered hand. He winced and ended up cradling it to his chest as he sat on the floor struggling to slow his wheezing for air. Grimacing at the pain, he sat back against the tiled walls and felt the soothing cold against the heat and sweat on his back. His gaze rested on Virgil's sash which had fallen to the floor in the struggle and he reached out to retrieve it. Staring down at it in his lap, he wondered just how the hell he was going to tell his father what had happened.

As if on cue, his watch began to bleep and he didn't even need to look to know that it would be his father calling. He let his head fall back against the wall and shook his injured hand, hoping that the pins and needles sensation would pass. "Father," he acknowledged as he answered the call and braced himself.

"Scott, are you okay?" Jeff frowned at the red mark on Scott's jaw. "We know it wasn't Virgil at the airport. In fact, we've had a break through of our own that I need to update you about," he took in Scott's expression and became concerned almost immediately. "What's going on, Son?"

"Dad…" Scott faltered, "I need to speak to Brains, is he there?" he asked with sudden purpose. He wanted to be sure of the possibilities before he started worrying his father with news that he couldn't be certain was true.

"Yes, he's right here," Jeff's frown deepened at Scott's determined expression and he gestured for the scientist to step forward into view. "What's this about, Scott?"

"Brains," Scott began, bypassing any other pleasantries, "we used the truth serum on the guy from the airfield. Is there any way he could lie while under the influence of it? Anything at all?"

Brains raised a hand to his blue rimmed spectacles and pushed them a little further up his nose, "It's err… highly unlikely, Scott," he frowned. Scott's expression demonstrated that it was not the answer he wanted to hear and Brains thought harder not to disappoint the disheartened pilot, "The serum a-a-affects the err… chemical r-reactions in the err …b-brain. It forces the err ….individual to …. speak the tr-truth as they see it."

"As they see it?" Scott held on to those words like a lifeline. "So, they could be inaccurate as long as they believed they were telling the truth?"

Brains frowned, "Err…y-y-yes."

Scott breathed an internal sigh of relief until he met his father's gaze and realised that he needed to explain his sudden rush to speak to Brains.

"Scott, what's all this about?" Jeff asked, his frown penetrating Scott's existence like a beam of light through the darkest of shadows.

"We apprehended the ringleader here at the airport," Scott began, flexing his injured hand and willing it to work. "When we gave him the truth serum he told us…" he sighed and looked straight up at his father, "he told us Virgil was dead." Watching his father's expression change and his eye's become dark, Scott hurried to explain, "It doesn't mean anything though. He said Virgil was in the jet when it exploded but he might've escaped or not been hurt." Scott realised that the chances of that happening were doubtful but he couldn't bring himself to accept anything else. "Or he might be hurt somewhere," that scenario didn't fill him with reassurance either, realising he was digging a hole he clamped his mouth shut.

"Dead?" Jeff shook his head. "No," he muttered. "No, he can't be," he whispered as his eyes took on a far-off appearance. "But, we haven't heard…" he shook his head again, pulling himself together. "No, Scott, I can't accept that," he said, his voice hardened and overflowing with resolve.

"Me neither," Scott replied, his eyes burned as he tried to blink away the desire to crumble. He was tired and he was more afraid then he would ever admit that he could be in very real danger of losing one of his brothers. "Not while there's the smallest chance that he could be out there."

"Where are you now?" Jeff made it clear that the subject was neither up for discussion or debate and changed the focus to something that would give him back the element of control he'd been lacking.

"I'm at the airport, the guy's made a run for it but Penny and Parker are chasing after him," Scott informed his father, slightly relieved at his attitude towards Jake's bombshell news. "I'm going to head back to the crash site. I'm only twenty minutes away, and that's where we know Virgil was last."

"Good," Jeff nodded his approval. "That's the conclusion we came to as well. Gordon and Alan should already be there scanning the area for any body signals that could be Virgil. In the meantime, there are a few things I think you should know…"

XxxxX

"…he told us Virgil was dead."

Sitting frozen at his control unit, John Tracy realised with belated shock that the earlier crash had been caused by one of his accumulation of coffee mugs falling to the floor. The news that his brother could be dead was shocking enough but to hear it third party was even worse. The coffee mug had slipped from his grasp and was now in several pieces on the floor, lying in a river of black coffee. He grasped the edge of the desk as he listened to the rest of the conversation and Scott's rambled attempt to deny the reality.

Sometimes being in the world's biggest communications satellite had its downfalls and this was certainly one of them; you often heard things you didn't want to. Scott and Virgil were particularly bad at forgetting he was up there listening, usually on the journey home from a late night rescue when they both needed the conversation to help fight off fatigue. John heaved a heavy sigh and stood, careful to avoid chunks of china.

He was about to make his way to the kitchen to fetch something to clean up the mess, when the red light on the other side of the station began to flash, "Calling International Rescue…"

"No," John shook his head in disbelief, "please, God, no. Not now."

But the voice wasn't listening.

"Calling International Rescue," it continued, "Calling International Rescue, we need your help…."


	12. Chapter 12

_**In Too Deep - Chapter Twelve**_

The greens of the British countryside flew past the window becoming only a blur of colour somewhere between olive green and dark brown. Penelope drew her attention away from the vague impression she was getting of passing scenery and instead turned to the road ahead. Moving regularly through small villages, at present, they were too conspicuous to make a move on the vehicle they pursued.

Jake had opted to head out of the city and the bumpier roads were testing FAB1's suspension. Another jolt and Penelope made her discomfort known, "Parker, these primitive country roads are rather taxing."

"My h'apologies, M'Lady," Parker nodded from the front seat as he tried to concentrate on what he was doing. "Seems 'e's 'eading south east," he gestured to the display screen on the dashboard with a jerk of his head. The little screen showed their position, with a rather aptly coloured pink dot, and their target vehicle. "H'I think 'e's goin' for the docks, M'Lady," Parker guessed.

As Penelope leaned forward to see for herself, she nodded in agreement. "I think you could be right, Parker, in which case we could be heading into a more densely populated area. Have the silencer on the front cannon at the ready," she ordered as she sat back, "just in case."

"Very good, M'Lady," Parker nodded, distracted for a moment as Jake made a sharp right turn. Jumping down the gearbox, FAB1 lurched and the engine growled in protest as Parker followed.

Recovering from being thrown about in the back, Penelope straightened herself up and brushed strands of blonde hair out of her eyes. She would have made a comment about the violent manoeuvres but she barely had time to right herself before there was another jolt, this time on a smaller scale. Despite the advanced suspension and traction control working together to smooth out the ride, she still reached behind her to the concealed harness and fastened it. Making the most of the smoother ride, she turned her attention to the screen in front of her and displayed the files she'd earlier perused.

"Here we are," she pointed a manicured finger at the photograph that appeared, "I've just identified the assailant as Jake Field and it seems he's got a never ending list of deviances," she paused as her eyes scanned over his previous convictions and she reacquainted herself with the file. "Now, it's essential that Mr Field is eliminated before the police can track the vehicle he's driving."

Parker stamped on the accelerator whilst they travelled a straight stretch of road, gaining on the car in front, "Well, the h'Old Bill was turning up just as we left the h'airport, M'Lady," he said as his brow furrowed in concentration. "H'I was worried they'd give me h'another ticket, what with me parkin' on them double yell'ws h'an' all."

"Good, that means we have a head start on them," Penelope concluded. "Now, it's essential we work quickly. Signal him to pull over, Parker, and if he doesn't respond this time we shall have to take drastic action."

"Very good, M'Lady," Parker nodded. A little heavier with the gas pedal this time he pushed the pink Rolls Royce closer to the target car. A flash of the lights and a toot of the horn later, he gestured for Jake to pull over using a thumb and a wave of his hand. The gesture that Jake returned left Parker in no doubt that Lady Penelope's 'drastic action' was called for. "H'I don't think 'e's goin' to h'oblige, M'Lady," he reported.

"I see, can you attempt to over-take?" Penelope asked, leaning forward again for a better view. The lane they travelled on was narrow and twisting, the verges were so overgrown that it was difficult to see anything but the roof of the other car as it zoomed along. Parallel to the road, ran a wide river just identifiable through the overgrown foliage. There was a bare spot every now and again, where the lush greens had been cut back in order for fishermen to park their cars. Penelope knew the dangers of overtaking and ending up in the river were high but asked the question anyway. Parker was an exemplary driver.

"Not h'a good h'idea, M'Lady," Parker shook his head from side to side. "H'I'll try but that river looks deep h'and it'd h'only take one bump h'at the speed we're travellin', we'd h'end h'up in the juice." As he manoeuvred FAB1 from her central position, Jake began to weave across the narrow road, Parker tried several times to get past but was unsuccessful. "H'it's no good, h'I can't get past 'im."

"Very well," Penelope's tone was grave as she accepted what he was saying with a sad nod of the head. "Drop back," she directed. "Let's get this over with before we enter the next village," her eyes met Parker's in the mirror and between the discreet but confident nod she gave him and her tone of voice, he knew what to do. "Aim for the tyres, Parker," she told him as he drew the cannon up from its place behind the front grill. The Spirit of Ecstasy transformed into the foundation for a target grid and with textbook precision, Parker lined it up.

In the target car, Jake glanced in the mirror feeling his heart sink a little to see the pink Rolls Royce drop back. To begin with the reprieve was met with a conceited grin and a feeling of supremacy, but then he realised just why the pink Rolls was leaving some distance. He frowned in confusion as the sun caught the turning Spirit of Ecstasy and he gulped when he saw the tip of a menacing black object make it's way through the front grill. He took in a quick breath when it became apparent what was going to happen and began to curse himself. If he hadn't denied Virgil that last wish then he might have escaped without all these troubles. His wickedness and his desire to humiliate his captive had been his downfall and, looking in the rear view mirror, he knew he was about to pay for it.

"Ready, M'Lady," Parker reported from the driver's seat of FAB1.

"Fire," Penelope responded without any hesitation. As she sat back and waited for Parker to implement her order, the communications panel sprung to life with a call from Thunderbird Five. Whilst Penelope opened the channel to John, Parker took the opportunity he'd been waiting for and fired.

There was a whoosh of air but no sound of gunfire as the silencer did its job. A slight wobble signified the ability of the chassis to compensate for the recoil. Parker slowed down in order to avoid ploughing into the damaged vehicle and watched, uncertain how Jake would respond.

There was a loud bang as the tyre exploded and the car lurched to the right. Jake overcompensated for the initial loss of friction and the back of the car lit up like a Christmas tree as he stamped on the brake.

From the safety of FAB1, Parker winced, shaking his head and tutting, "You don't want t' do that, my h'old son," he muttered, watching the car lurch again towards the verge.

Jake's car careered off the road, ploughing its way through long grass and vegetation and leaving a flattened track in its path. There was the harsh sound of the engine revving as the car hit something in the foliage and it flipped over. Suddenly it was sailing through the air, the three remaining tyres failing to get any kind of purchase, and there was an ominous pause before the sound of it hitting the water.

In contrast to the chaos outside the car, Penelope was her usual calm self as her eyes remained fixed to the monitor in front of her, "I see, John, yes I shall. Thank you and do keep us informed." She smiled and turned her attention back to Parker, who was guiding the pink Rolls into the clearing Jake's vehicle had carved out.

"Seems 'e took h'a swim," Parker reported.

"Oh dear, how unfortunate," Penelope's tone of voice belied the sentiment. "Well, let's hurry, Parker, John informed me that the Police aren't far behind us." With that she opened the car door and stepped onto the grass verge, fighting her way through reeds and long blades of grass to get a better look at the wreckage. The car was upside down, bobbing about in the river and slowly sinking as the water pressure equalised. The potent smell of burning rubber hung in the air and smoke billowed from the damaged tyre, mingling with the steam from the engine.

"What a shame, such a waste," Penelope shook her head. As she watched the current in the water float a leaf past them. Parker nodded and took his cap off, placing it over his heart in respect. Penelope heaved a sigh and began walking towards the Pink Rolls Royce again, satisfied that her work was done, "The owner will be devastated, I believe that's a rare model, but such a sacrifice was required. He left us with no choice," she said.

Parker stood for a moment, watching her walk away and making sense of what she'd said. Realising it was the car she was mourning and not the driver, he quickly replaced his cap and scurried after her. Coming to stand beside her, his blood ran cold at the sight of a police car, lights flashing and sirens blaring, heading straight towards them. "Blimey!" he exclaimed. "H'it's the h'Old Bill!" such a sight still gripped his heart with panic even now when, as far as most people knew, he stuck to the straight and narrow. "Permission to wait in the car, M'Lady?"

"Permission granted, Parker," Penelope suppressed a smile at his sudden uneasiness, "I can handle this." She turned to him as he began to walk briskly towards the drivers door, "Oh, Parker," she called, waiting for him to turn back, "excellent shooting, by the way." He gave her a brief nod and glanced at the approaching police car before hurrying into the Rolls and pulling his cap down over his eyes. By the time the police car pulled up, he wasn't visible above the dashboard.

XxxxX

Meanwhile in Thunderbird Two's cockpit the atmosphere was tense. Gordon had long since blocked out Alan's constant jabbering in order to concentrate on what he was doing, piloting the mammoth Thunderbird wasn't half as easy as Virgil made it look. Not to mention his own concern for the situation or the fatigue he felt. Alan was by far the brother he was closest to, but that didn't mean the younger man didn't test his patience at times and as Gordon glanced over the instrumentation, he couldn't help but wish Alan would just sit down and shut up.

"So, Brains thinks the other two are still at the crash site? Why would they stay there?" Alan frowned, turning to his redhead brother as he continued to pace the cockpit behind the pilot's chair. It was clear he was expecting an answer but Gordon was too busy concentrating on his flying and made no attempt to reply. "If I'd just escaped prison and a life sentence, I'd be running as fast as I could. I wonder how accurate those tag things are. Our ETDs are accurate to within a meter but Brains said that the signal's much stronger and it's a long time since he actually got that information, maybe they've moved. It's a possibility, don't you think?" Again no reply came but this time Alan stopped to raise his eyebrows. "Gordon?" he asked. "Gordy?" again, he tried to get his brother's attention. He reached out a hand to the back of Gordon's seat, "Gordon, are you listening to me?"

"What?" Gordon snapped back, twisting in his chair long enough to glare at this younger brother. "Look, Alan, would you just sit down!" he shook his head and muttered under his breath. "I'm trying to concentrate here!"

"Gee, I'm sorry," Alan responded sarcastically as he moved across to the co-pilot's seat and sat down. "I didn't realize I wasn't allowed to think. Virgil doesn't need complete silence to fly," he pouted.

"Yeah, well I'm not Virgil!" Gordon responded, his temper getting the better of him. "And, in case it's escaped your notice, Virgil isn't here!" as soon as the words left his mouth he regretted them. Acknowledging the fact that he was taking his worry and anxiety out on his younger brother, he let out a remorseful sigh and softened his tone. "You need to get the imaging equipment set up, use the heat register and the body sonar…" he trailed off when he met Alan's blank expression, albeit briefly. "What?"

"You haven't listened to a word I've said, have you?" Alan asked, aggrieved. "The equipment's all ready to go and has been for the last five minutes." His tone was curt and it was obvious he was still smarting from Gordon's outburst. He sat with his arms folded across his chest and an angry scowl smeared on his face. "Don't take it out on me!" he muttered, his eyebrows getting closer as his scowl deepened. "You think I'm not worried too?"

Gordon sighed and ran a hand over his face. He'd hoped that changing the subject would be an end to the matter, but Alan was making it clear that it would take more than a silent agreement to cease fire. With another sigh, he swallowed his pride, "I'm sorry, Al, I guess I'm just concentrating a little too hard."

Alan scoffed and, feeling uncomfortable, moved about in his seat. He could understand that Gordon was upset and that he felt under pressure but Virgil wasn't just Gordon's brother.

It was only when Alan made no attempt to accept Gordon's apology that the aquanaut realised how much the comments must have stung. "Al," Gordon tried again, "I've said I'm sorry, I know you're finding this just as tough as I am."

"He's my brother too," Alan replied in a huff. He turned around in his seat and began to adjust the equipment. Gordon watched him, hoping that it was an end to the conversation. The last thing they needed on top of everything else was to be at each other's throats.

"We're approaching the crash site now," Gordon reported as he controlled the mammoth transporter round in an arc until a tower of smoke could be seen in the distance. Alan nodded but didn't say anything as he reached forward and started the equipment operating. Gordon bit his bottom lip. The silent treatment, he mused. He purposely didn't bite, hoping that Alan would let it drop. They had more important things to concentrate on right now.

"Anything?" Gordon asked, slowing down and lowering their altitude, enabling Alan to scan the area.

Alan glanced at the screen and then turned to his brother. The hope he saw in Gordon's eyes was probably mirrored in his own and it broke his heart when he could only shake his head, "Nothing yet," he added. "But that could be good, there's no sign of any other signals either, so it looks like we beat that Four guy."

"Thunderbird Two from Thunderbird Five," John's voice boomed through the speakers, saving them both from the uncomfortable silence.

Without hesitating, Gordon leant forward to the radio, "Go ahead, John," his tone of voice said it all and he let out another heavy sigh as he waited for John to respond. The hesitation didn't bode well. Gordon frowned and glanced at Alan, his eyes wide with immediate worry. "John?" he asked, not leaving Alan's gaze.

"I'm here, Gordy," John's tone was soft and the tension in the air became heavier. Sensing that the news wasn't good, Alan left his post to stand behind his brother. Now he was able to place a comforting hand on Gordon's tense shoulder as if to tell him their earlier discussion was forgotten.

"What is it, John?" Alan swallowed, looking at his blond brother and silently begging him not to give them more bad news, "What's wrong?"

Gordon flicked on the auto-pilot in order to give his space-bound brother his full attention. John coughed and cleared his throat, uncomfortable that he should be the one to break the news. He could see Alan was anxious to know but the blank expression on Gordon's features worried him, "Scott called in a few minutes ago, he confirmed that Virgil wasn't at the airport but it gets worse..." There was a pause before John went on, both Alan and Gordon leant forward in a subconscious gesture to get closer to the monitor. "Scott gave the ringleader a dose of truth serum and he swore blind that Virgil never got out of the jet before it exploded." He waited for the impact of what he was saying to sink in. Gordon's eyes closed as he sat back in his seat, understanding but at the same time, denying the possibility. Alan, however, just frowned his confusion.

"But if he didn't escape the jet then…." The younger blond's eyes were drawn to the plume of smoke on the horizon as he digested what John was saying.

"What else, John?" Gordon's voice was flat, past the stage where it held any trace of emotion. Alan heard the hint of detachment that his brother's voice carried, making him sound cold and harsh. It reminded him that despite Gordon's young years, like Scott, he had military experience. Often, when the tension reached such a critical level, he would turn to dealing with things the same way their older brother did. The military switch, as Virgil had once described it, was well and truly on.

"I just received a distress call, I think it was from one of the criminals. He didn't say his name but he asked for help, in fact, all he said was 'we need help' and then he got cut off." John reported professionalism prominent in his tone of voice, "I traced the call, seems they're in your area. I think Brains was right and that they're still at the crash site."

"They've got some damned gall calling us for help!" Alan fumed, "After everything they've done! I'll give them help all right…" Gordon looked at him with dull eyes and was almost able to see the steam coming out of Alan's ears.

"Alan…" the redhead protested at his brother's loud outburst.

John's sigh crackled through the airwaves, having received a similar response from Scott when he'd reported the call; this was exactly what he had expected from the most hot-headed of his brothers. It was at times like this that the similarities Alan and Scott shared became apparent even though they expressed themselves in different ways.

"Do they think we're stupid?" Alan continued, showing no signs of quietening down, "I mean, what do they take us for? I hope you told him where to go John!"

"Al, this isn't helping," John jumped in when Alan paused for breath and put an end to the tirade. When Alan opened his mouth to retort, John gestured to Gordon who had gone back to resting his head against the seat and closing his eyes.

Alan looked at his aquanaut brother and stopped for a moment, taking a deep breath and then looking from John's monitor to Gordon. He dropped his head, "I'm sorry guys," he apologised in a meek tone, "I guess it just makes me mad, that's all."

"It makes us all mad," Gordon replied, "but we have to focus now, get back to that scanner." Without argument, which was evidence enough of the stress they were all under, the youngest of the brothers took his seat again. Gordon watched him go and then turned back John, "You don't really think he was in that jet, do you, John?" he asked, his tone low and apprehensive of the answer that would be returned.

"I can't, Gordy," John shook his head, "and neither can you. Right now, we have to hope that Virgil's escaped these guys and is waiting for you to pick him up."

Gordon began to shake his head, showing just how downcast and despondent he felt, "No, Dad was right, he would've been in touch if that were the case."

John looked at his brother, sitting in Thunderbird Two's pilot's chair and for the first time really took in his appearance. Gordon's shoulders were drooped but the frown plastered across his forehead had only grown in depth during their conversation. He looked tired and tense, bringing John to the conclusion that Gordon wasn't coping all that well with the intensity of the situation. "Hey," he forced a smile to part his lips, hoping to raise his brother's spirits, he knew they couldn't afford to lose hope. Hope was all they had left now and they had to cling to it with both hands. "You know Virgil, he's probably watching you from down there, taking notes on how well you're doing. He might not have been able to get in touch, maybe he's hurt or…"

"Dead?" Gordon's voice filled the void before John could come up with a suitable alternative.

"Listen, Gordon," John glanced behind him at where Alan was working, "I know the last few hours have been tough and I know you're exhausted right now, we all are, but Virgil's out there somewhere, I promise you. And he's counting on us to get to him. We have to think positively, you can't let Alan hear you talking like that."

Gordon lowered his head and then began to nod. As John had done before, he glanced across to Alan to ensure he was busy, "I know, John," he sighed, "I'm sorry. It's just, it's hard, ya'know? I guess I'm letting it get to me, we're overdue some good news."

"Tell me about it," John scoffed in reply, "but we can't give up him. He'd never give up on you."

Gordon suddenly felt guilty for the dejection that had taken a firm hold on his heart and attempted to shake himself out of it. "I know he wouldn't," he muttered letting out another heavy sigh. "How the hell did we get into this mess, John?"

"That doesn't matter right now," John replied, as resolute and calm as he ever was. No matter what the situation, Gordon could always rely on his older blond brother to be the rational one, "what matters is how we get out of it in one piece. Now, Penelope's dealing with the guy from the airport so we don't have to worry about him. Scott should be with you soon, he's left the airport and he's heading to the crash site. In the meantime, you keep scanning the area and keep an eye out for that Four guy. Be careful."

Gordon nodded, taking a few moments to pull himself together. John was doing what John did best – talking sense. "Okay, we're approaching the crash site now, it doesn't look good, John, I can see the fire on the horizon," he paused to turn across to Alan, feeling a little guilty for being so snappy earlier. "You found anything, Al?" he purposely shortened Alan's name in an effort to sound a little friendlier than he had done earlier.

Alan just shook his head, "Negative. Nothing that resembles anything human."

Gordon turned back to John and echoed Alan's gesture, "We'll keep looking. What about Dad? What's he going to do about that recording Brains got his hands on?" He knew his father would want to do the right thing. He'd already expressed his disgust at this project but now the lines had been blurred as to who was responsible. International Rescue might have been an apolitical organisation but that didn't make them amoral. His father would want to do what he saw as the right thing.

John smirked, "That would be the recording you helped Tin-Tin hack in to?" he said, letting his brothers know that they weren't fooling anyone.

Gordon looked to Alan, feeling like they'd been rumbled but Alan just held his head high and shrugged, "I don't know what you're talking about, John. Has Dad made a decision yet?"

"No," John ran a hand over his fair hair, prepared to let the subject drop, "he won't do anything to jeopardize us finding Virgil but I think he'll want to make sure this can't happen again. At the moment, he's trying to explain to Grandma that he's got no one he can send to pick her up. I'll give him a call later, see what he has planned."

"Okay," Gordon nodded, "what are we going to do about this distress call? There isn't much to go on. I mean, what if it's a trap? We just don't know what we'd be walking in to." He frowned, in turmoil, "At the same time, we can't just leave these guys if they're in need of genuine help."

Somewhere behind him, Alan mumbled something along the lines of, "I don't see why not."

Gordon ignored him and carried on, "If they're in real trouble we can't discriminate. I'm sure that's what Dad would say."

"Well," John shrugged, "at the moment there's not a lot we can do. I'm working on tracing the signal more accurately but there wasn't much to go on. I've been trying to return the call but there's no response as yet," he shook his head, "the radio they were using just died."

"Hold it!" Alan exclaimed, frowning at the screen in front of him and pushing the headset he wore against his ear. "Gordon, hold her still." He ordered in a frenzy, concentrating on the screen in front of him and shuffling to the edge of his seat in anticipation.

Gordon obliged, steadying the great ship by adjusting the autopilot settings, "What have you got?" he turned away from John to look at Alan, eager for some news. When Alan's only reply was to concentrate harder, he checked that the autopilot was functioning and went to stand at his brother's shoulder, peering at the screen.

"There," Alan pointed to the screen as Gordon leant forward, placing a hand on his shoulder, "I'm picking up a reading from there and it looks like it could be human."

There was suddenly a spark of apprehension in the air and the thrill of making potential progress spurned Gordon into action. "Cross reference that with the map," Gordon squeezed his shoulder, eagerly waiting for him to pinpoint the position. He began to tap his foot on the floor but stopped when Alan scowled up at him. "Sorry," he mumbled.

"Is it just the one signal, Al?" John asked from the monitor Gordon had abandoned, reminding Thunderbird Two's stand-in pilot that he was still there. "Be careful, we know that there are at least two of the criminals still in that area, they could be armed and dangerous."

"Yeah, and that the agent from the recording is on his way up here too," Gordon added with a shake of the head. "He sounded like he meant business."

John nodded even though neither of his younger brothers were close enough to see him. He could tell just by the tone in Gordon's voice that this news couldn't have come at a better time. Then, just when things appeared bleak, light appeared at the end of the tunnel. "Even more reason to establish if it's Virgil, then get in there and pull him out before this Agent Four turns up. Whoever he is." John frowned, still unable to fathom where he'd heard the voice. He'd even gone through previous recordings from earlier rescue missions that had involved the British Secret Service in an effort to place it, but he'd been unsuccessful.

"This could take a few minutes," Alan frowned in concentration, "bear with me, guys."

Gordon seemed to pick up on John's frustration and sat back down in his seat, leaving Alan to do the various cross referencing. "You don't think it's Southern, do you, John? He was with MI5, you remember him, don't you? He was the one that we rescued from those robots at the plutonium storage place."

"Yeah," John let out a haggard sigh, "yeah, I remember him, he was trapped after he infiltrated the Erdman Gang but I'm sure it's not him, Gordy. Besides, his cover was blown during that assignment, he had to resign." The blond astronaut's frown deepened the more they discussed it, "I just can't place it, I've cross matched a voice sample through all our records containing any reference to the British Secret Service. It's so darned frustrating!"

"Well, Southern could have been re-instated," Gordon suggested but seeing John's expression he let that idea drop, it was obvious John thought it unlikely. "Okay, well we've had other dealings with MI 5. What about that guy from the French Riviera," he clicked his fingers, "oh, what was he called? You know the one… when Penelope posed as that model that time."

"You mean Bondson?" John looked at Gordon, narrowed the gap between his eyebrows and then shook his head. "Nah, it wasn't him. I would have recognized his voice right away."

They both sat there for a while in pensive silence, trying to think of a way round it. Gordon stroked his chin and glanced across at Alan who was cursing at the equipment that was apparently defying his orders. Then, an idea struck him, "John, what if you didn't speak to this guy in a professional capacity? You said you cross matched his voice to all our records with Secret Service connections but what if you've spoken to him as just an ordinary member of the public?"

John began to nod, "Or maybe he's pretending to be someone else."

"Yeah," Gordon matched his nod. "He might be undercover or something…"

John opened his mouth to respond but wasn't quick enough to beat Alan's cry of, "Yes! Result at last!" Quickly closing his mouth so as not to resemble a goldfish, he waited for his youngest brother to appear on the screen. "I've got it!" Alan crowed, his smile stretching from ear to ear as he wandered into John's picture. "There are three signals in total, I'm pretty sure they're all human. They're here," he pointed on Gordon's map.

"That's…" Gordon frowned, "That's right over there," he stretched a pointed finger out towards the air base almost below them. "This is great!"

"Three signals, Alan? Are you sure?" John's serious expression pulled all the relief from the atmosphere. "That means it could be Virgil but he's still with the other two prisoners, they could still be holding him. There'd be another body signal if the spy was in the vicinity, there'd be four signals."

"I don't know, they're not all together. We know the two prisoners are here because it's where the trackers are signalling from but the other signal could be either Virgil or the spy," Alan's grin was receding from his lips when the frown began pulling at his forehead. "Two of them are in a room at the front of the building, on the north side and the third one is on the south side. Oh… hold it, that third one is on the move."

"John's right, there'd be four body signals if the spy was here." Gordon didn't want to think about the possibility that the signals might be the two remaining prisoners and the agent from the recording. He didn't even want to consider that Virgil might not be there. "That means they're probably still holding Virgil and we have to assume that they're armed, or Virgil would have tried to escape. It's too dangerous to just go barging in there." He frowned irresolute, logic and his heart told him conflicting information, "they'd kill him."

"At least we know he's not dead already," John looked towards the silver lining but Gordon just glared at his nonchalant tone of voice. He knew John was far from nonchalant deep inside but comments like that, practical as they were, weren't exactly helping the atmosphere in the cockpit.

"We don't know anything for sure," Alan reminded them, "we're assuming it's Virgil in there. For all we know it could be a group of squatters or…." he trailed off when both his brother's turned to him and he realised that wasn't what they wanted to hear either, "something," he finished, swallowing hard.

"Okay," John turned the subject of conversation back to situation and ignored his younger brother. "Gordon, land at the airbase but be careful. Wait for Scott to get there before you do anything."

"I can see Scott," Alan reported, peering down through the large windscreen to the ground, as it appeared to rise up to meet them, "he's pulling onto the airstrip now."

"I'll let him and Base know what you've found," John reached forward to his control panel in order to end the conversation. "Good work, guys."

"Thanks, John," their reply was in unison but the glint in Gordon's eye told John his aquanaut brother was thanking him for a whole lot more than the compliment. His older brother spent a lot of his time, once a rescue operation was underway, keeping people calm and focused. And it wasn't always the victims.

XxxxX

Virgil was aware of a shuddering sensation and forced his eyes open, coming nose to nose with Luke's fretful appearance. He realised that the younger man had been shaking him and that he must've fallen asleep again. Damn, he was determined he wasn't going to do that but somehow he must've succumbed to his body's fatigue.

"Gee, that was quick," he mumbled as he blinked his vision into focus and tried to sit up. He'd slouched against the desk during his doze.

Luke heaved a sigh and sat down next to him on the floor, "God, don't do that to me," he growled, "I thought you weren't going to wake up."

Virgil frowned, unaware he'd been asleep either that long or that deep. He turned his attention to remembering where Luke had gone. "Did you get through to John?"

"Ah," Luke grimaced and pulled his legs so as he was sat under them, "Good news is I got through, bad news is we were cut off."

"Cut off?" Virgil's frown deepened, "How?"

"The radio had an anti-theft device. I'd barely got three words out before it died on me," he looked up at Virgil, sadness contained in his eyes. "Sorry," Virgil began to shake his head but then stopped and squeezed his eyes shut, it felt like his brain was floating in a bowl of water inside his skull and he'd just caused a tidal wave. Luke saw his attempt to deny the comment and then the subsequent pain. "Maybe I should get you an ambulance or something, if I started walking I'm bound to come across someone who'll help me."

"No!" Virgil exclaimed. "No, you can't. They'd ask too many questions, I'm fine," he opened an eye, hesitant but at the same time wanting to prove to Luke he was okay, "there, see? I'm fine." The insistence in his tone was belied by a growl from his stomach as he tried to contain the nausea. Luke wasn't convinced. "It's just a mild concussion, that's all." Virgil assured him, watching as Luke shrugged and his expression changed, 'suit yourself' written all over it. Virgil blinked and when he opened his eyes, Luke had moved to sit alongside him, his back resting up against the desk. "What did John say?"

"I told you," Luke scowled at him, his tone snapped, "we got cut off."

"Yeah," Virgil tried to cover his irritation, of course, they'd already had this conversation. "But what exactly did John say? How long were you talking?"

Luke took a deep breath, sensing Virgil's frustration and trying not to show his aggravation. "Not long," he began. "He answered the call, I told him we needed help, then we got cut off," he shrugged his shoulders and held his hands out, palm up, in a gesture of helplessness.

"Well, if you were on the line for long enough, he should be able to trace the call," Virgil thought aloud. "You didn't tell him who you were?"

"No!" Luke exclaimed, irritation beginning to show. "I just told you! We got cut off!"

"Okay, okay," Virgil sagged against the desk. "I'm sorry. Look, they'll be able to track us, they'll come, we just have to sit tight and wait." He hoped he was right and that Luke had been on the line long enough for John to get a trace.

"And you're sure they'll help me too?" Luke asked, uneasy at the prospect and still needing reassurance that Virgil wouldn't back down on what he said. "You said they would," his tone was almost accusing.

"Don't worry," Virgil tried to stay calm in the face of his hostility, "we'll work something out, you won't have to go back, I promise." He paused. "Just wait, trust me, they'll be here," Virgil forced himself to sound more confident, he knew his brothers would never desert him but he hoped they'd realised where he was, Luke's unsuccessful radio call wasn't much to go on…

Virgil shifted in his position, the bottom of his spine had gone numb and he was beginning to feel pins and needles in his fingers. He watched Luke, who sat alongside him playing with the edge of his shirt. The silence wasn't awkward it just wasn't inviting either. There was a tension in the air that neither of them could do anything to relieve.

"Tell me who Foster is," Virgil said as he turned his hands over in his lap. He needed the sound of Luke's voice to stop himself from drifting and he hoped Luke realised it was a request and not an order. He began to wiggle his fingers so as to keep the circulation moving, Luke had done a good job of bandaging his wrists but the blood was seeping through. A lot slower than before but still coming nonetheless.

"Foster?" Luke frowned for a moment, pulled from his thoughts, and then he remembered their earlier conversation. "Oh yeah, Foster. He's the Number One. The Boss. He's in charge of the facility. Some of the guys say he's a special agent with loads of different identities and everything, but I don't know, it all sounds a bit far fetched if you ask me. He's hardcore though," Luke raised an eyebrow, seriously. "He's got a reputation for being a piece of work, especially with the women."

"Hold on a second," Virgil's mind was still a little slow on the uptake, "you're telling me there were women in that place too?"

"Yeah," Luke nodded, as if it was the most natural thing in the world. "Different wing to us but same principle, no family, no home as such. It's the ideal way to make the taxpayers' day, isn't it?" He sighed. "You ask most of the general public and they'll tell you bringing back the death sentence is the way forward, they don't have a clue. They make their judgements from their cosy little houses, with their fancy cars and their perfect little lives, they wouldn't know what it's like inside. Yet, they've got what they all want. That place, it is a death sentence. In fact, it's worse than a death sentence." He laughed and shook his head, "Ironic really, they've got what they want but they don't even know about the place."

"I'm sure there's plenty of people out there who would disagree with what they're doing, Luke," Virgil swallowed again but his mouth was dry and it didn't really do anything. "Just because you've broken the law, doesn't mean you shouldn't be treated humanely. I just don't understand how they could get away with something like this," Virgil commented. "Not in this day and age."

"Well," Luke sighed and moved so as he was comfortable, "I don't suppose it's that difficult if you have the right…" he searched for the right word, "influences."

"Influences?" Virgil tried to laugh but the smoke still aggravating his lungs caused it to sound more like a wheezed cough. "Don't tell me this Foster guy drives an Aston Martin and likes his Martini shaken not stirred?" his attempt to lighten the mood wasn't successful.

Luke looked at him and raised an eyebrow, reminding Virgil of John when Gordon had cracked a particularly lame joke. "There's a lot of things going on in this country that people don't know about. It's happened before, where there's great power, there's usually great corruption. That's what my Grandfather used to say," Luke's tone was serious and as much as the conspiracy idea didn't sit well with Virgil, he had to admit that in this instance it was plausible.

Virgil saw his opportunity to keep the conversation ticking and wondered just what else was going on behind closed doors, "How high up do you think this goes?"

He felt Luke shrug beside him and tried not to tense when their shoulders brushed together, "It's got to go pretty high for them to get away with so much. Someone in the cabinet's on the inside, they have to be. It's just a question of who."

"As high as the President, umm …. I mean Prime Minister?" Virgil asked, still concentrating on flexing his hands. As his fingers brushed against each other, the sensation of pins and needles continued. He needed the pain as much as he needed the conversation to remind him he was still alive.

"Nah," Luke dismissed the idea with a shake of the head, "he couldn't organise a kids tea party, it must be in the job description. There's always someone in the background pulling his strings, my money's on the Home Secretary." Virgil raised an eyebrow, he didn't really know much about British politics so let Luke do most of the talking. "She's always spouting all this crap about Criminal Justice Reforms, she wants to bring back the death sentence too. Believe me, this is right up her street."

"Surely, people must realize what's going on, you can't just disappear," Virgil frowned, he risked a glance down to where his wrists laid in his lap. The blood wasn't darkening the off-white dressings so quickly and he hoped that meant the bleeding had come close to stopping again.

"Don't be naïve, Virgil, this is the government, they make people disappear for a living," Luke replied, his tone bitter and harsh, he reached a hand up to rub over his face. Virgil tried not to appear startled by the sudden movement.

Virgil wasn't sure what to say to that and again they lapsed into silence. The wounded man watched his companion carefully. Luke let his head rest against the desk and puffed his chest out to exhale long, deep breaths several times. He was restless and Virgil couldn't blame him. Luke was forced to rely on his trust as much as he was forced to rely on Luke's and it wasn't making for a comfortable atmosphere. The tension in the air only seemed to increase with every passing second, as if the time delay was some kind of damning evidence that Virgil wasn't trustworthy. Luke tapped his fingers, shuffled against the desk and, on occasion, went back to pulling threads from his shirt. He didn't speak a word but, for Virgil, his actions said it all.

The silence had become oppressive as Luke's nervous movements increased. The more Virgil felt himself relax as unconsciousness beckoned, the more agitated Luke seemed to become. Jolted by movement, Virgil had to open his eyes to see what was going on, making him realise that at some point he must have closed them. He was silently grateful for Luke's timing.

Blinking to clear his vision and allow himself to focus in the dark, he watched as Luke reached down to his shoe and took it off. Lifting up the insole where it had been cut away to reveal a hollow compartment, he pulled out a carefully folded piece of paper.

Virgil allowed him a few moments just to stare at it before he voiced his thoughts. "What's that?" Luke jumped and turned to face him with accusing eyes. "If you don't mind my asking," Virgil added, afraid that he would be told it was none of his business. He could tell from the way Luke cradled the scrap of thick paper though, that it was important to him and probably private too.

"I thought you were asleep," Luke's tone of voice was curt, almost sharp and he tipped the corner of the paper to one side to hide it from Virgil's gaze. Luke took a few moments and then bit his lip. Coming to a decision, he turned his hands so as Virgil could see that it was a photograph.

It was an old digital photograph with crumbled edges and deep folds that had warped the picture. Virgil looked down at the image to see two men stood together, one slightly older and taller than the other. He recognised the younger man as Luke but the older man was a mystery. The figure was stood with his arm draped around Luke's shoulders and his smile was full of exhilaration. It reminded Virgil of the photograph that adorned his studio at home, the one Scott had taken after Gordon had won his medal. Virgil's expression was identical to the one on the older man's face, exhibiting that same pride in his brother's achievements.

"Is that Ben?" Virgil asked, glancing up at Luke for a reply. Luke shuffled about on the floor, clearly uncomfortable at the question but he nodded a yes. He didn't speak to begin with, he just let Virgil look but after a while, he folded the picture neatly and replaced it in his shoe.

"I didn't mean to pry," Virgil's tone was apologetic. "He was very proud of you."

"He wouldn't be proud if he could see me now," Luke mumbled and hung his head.

Virgil got the impression he was ashamed, "I can't ever imagine not feeling proud of my brothers, no matter what they did, they'd still be my brothers." His attempts to reassure Luke resulted in a nod of the head and so he went on, "The second youngest, Gordon, he's always playing jokes and sometimes he takes it a step too far." Virgil smiled, becoming wistful as he was carried away in the memory, "He's done things in the past that have made me mad, embarrassed me maybe, but I've never felt ashamed of him."

Luke smiled, grateful for the reassurance. The repressive silence returned and they sat quietly for a few moments, both of them, deep in thought. Virgil could feel himself slipping back towards unconsciousness without Luke's voice anchoring him to reality.

In a sudden flash of movement, Luke swallowed and turned to face him. Virgil watched the play of emotions on his face, apprehension and then resolve. It was almost as if he wanted to ask but didn't want to compromise the safe distance they'd established.

"What?" Deep down Virgil was pleading with him to talk, to say anything.

Luke hesitated and then shrugged, "Who's Scott?" The question took Virgil by surprise and Luke explained further, "When you were coming round before, you thought I was Scott."

"Scott," Virgil mused, taking a few moments to pull himself back together. He was back to pondering the same dilemma regarding Luke's sincerity but he'd already made the decision to trust him, now he had to stand by it. "Scott's my brother," the words were slow in forming and his mouth felt dry but he pushed them out.

Luke nodded, "I'm sure I recognise that name," he muttered, more to himself than Virgil. "I've heard it before." He racked his brains trying to fathom its familiarity but then turned back to Virgil. "He's your older brother? I thought maybe John was…" he trailed off, waiting an explanation.

Hazy confusion cleared as Virgil tried to focus. "Scott's my older brother, not John," he confirmed. The thirst was almost unbearable and he tried to swallow again but it was no use.

Luke frowned harder, trying to place where he'd heard the name used and then a memory flashed through his mind. Surfacing from the burrowing machine, the doors swished open just as he'd heard voices, _"But, Scott…" _and then, after the hydraulics had finished their work, in the deafening silence that had followed there was a different voice, _"Alan! Keep still and be on your guard!" _It all made so much sense now. The depth of sentiment during the brief conversation Luke had witnessed just before they'd made their escape. The play of unconcealed emotion on Virgil's face when he thought Scott might have been there.

"Oh, God," Luke exclaimed as a gush of air escaped him, "Scott was there, wasn't he? He's the dark haired one from the video link." Virgil opened his eyes long enough to hold Luke's gaze and convey everything that needed to be conveyed. "And Alan too… so the other one, he was Gordon. Oh my god, you all joined International Rescue, didn't you?" He didn't really need an answer, the question was rhetorical but Virgil gave him a weary nod.

Virgil smiled, "We are International Rescue, Luke," he blinked. "That's how I know they'll come for us, they won't leave me, we're family."

"It all makes so much sense now," Luke was in awe, it was like a jigsaw he didn't even know he'd been completing had all fallen into place. "The way they were all so anxious when we came out of your burrowing machine, I put it down to you being close, y'know, as a team, but you're much closer than that…. you're a family," he was still struggling to get his head around it when Virgil heard the faint murmurings of a familiar roar. "And when you were talking to Scott on the video link, he was so worried, so concerned…"

"Shh!" Virgil hushed him so as he could make out the rumbling that was getting louder with every slow second. He was secretly afraid that it might be his mind playing wicked tricks on him so he waited for conformation. "Can you hear that?" he asked, listening hard.

Luke frowned, "Hear what?"

"Two," Virgil began to nod as the sound intensified and the rumbling in the distance could be distinguished as engines. "I'd know those engines anywhere," somehow, despite everything, a grin managed to form on his face, "it's Thunderbird Two. They're here!"

"They're here?" Luke asked, his eyes lighting up with hope as the sound of the mighty engines penetrated his hearing. He stumbled onto his knees with every intention to move to the window in order to check. As if the increasing roar of the engines wasn't evidence enough.

There was a clatter as Luke pushed himself to his feet and Virgil started, he looked down at the source of the noise and stared in disbelief. Frowning for a few seconds, he needed the time to absorb what his blurry vision was telling him, right there on the floor, not a metre away, cold and unassuming, was the origin of the undignified clang; his gun.

Virgil's eyes flicked back up to Luke as, still, the sounds of Thunderbird Two's engines increased, dulled only by the sound proofing of the building. The last dregs of adrenaline his body could muster began to pump through his system as his brain worked over time to come to a conclusion. Luke held his gaze, panic in his eyes and a clear uncertainty as to what would happen next. A few moments of silence passed during which both men became unwilling to accept what their brains were telling them.

Then suddenly came the moment of decision. Virgil held a hand out for the gun but his ribs protested and Luke easily beat him to retrieve the weapon.

"What are you doing, Luke?" Virgil asked, caution in his tone. Perhaps now wasn't the best time to push the issue of trust. "Where did you get that?"

Luke's face contorted into a pained expression, "I'm sorry, Virgil," he shook his head. "I'm so sorry but I had to take it. Billy still had it in his hand when I went to check on him," he began to explain, holding the gun without much concern, in his uninjured hand. "I just needed some security."

"Security?" Virgil's gaze was set on the gun. All of a sudden, the drowsiness of fatigue evaporated and though his thoughts weren't clear, as such, they weren't overly muddled either. "I don't understand," he tried to stay calm.

"I needed to make sure," Luke told him, waving the gun in the air. "I'm putting everything on the line here. I had to have a back up plan." He was beginning to get harassed, placing his weight from one foot to the other as sweat began to line his forehead.

"So, what was the plan?" Virgil felt himself breaking out in a sweat, despite the fact that he actually felt cold, "Hold me at gunpoint, then what? How far would you have gone?"

"I'd never hurt you!" Luke shook his head in vehement denial at Virgil's insinuation.

"But you don't me trust me either, do you?" Virgil asked, holding Luke's erratic gaze and trying to instil some calm in him. Luke sighed and then continued his pacing, holding the gun unsteadily with a limp wrist. "Luke, do me a favour, stop waving that thing around and listen to me," Virgil implored him, "we're almost there now. They're right outside so …." he paused, building up the energy to hold his hand up a little. His weakened wrist buckled but he managed to hold his arm out. "Give me the gun, Luke. Give me the gun and we'll forget this ever happened."

"I can't," Luke's bottom lip trembled as he began to shake his head. "I can't, I'm sorry, Virgil. I trust you, I really do but you can't guarantee my survival," he gestured to the gun, "this can."

"Luke…" Virgil swallowed and took in a deep breath, as deep as his battered lungs would allow. Using the table he was leaning against, he did his best to pull himself to his feet. It was a struggle, his injured arms refused to hold his weight and his legs felt like thin bits of string, not the muscular, sturdy limbs that supported him during his early morning runs. "Luke, it'll be okay, I promise you," he wheezed, struggling for much needed breath.

"You can't promise that, no-one can," Luke shook his head.

"I can promise that I'll look after you, I'll make sure you're okay," Virgil could see Luke was undecided. He'd never really had faith that taking the gun would get him anywhere, that much was clear, and any other day Virgil wouldn't have had a problem in retrieving the gun with more physical methods. Today wasn't an ordinary day though and it was important to Virgil that he was proved right about Luke's character, that he was worthy of the trust Virgil had placed in him. Right now, Luke was just confused and scared, Virgil told himself. "You said earlier that you just wanted to do the right thing," Virgil went on, "my brothers have come here to help us, do you think waving a gun in their face is doing the right thing?"

"No, of course not," Luke's reply came without hesitation, "and I wouldn't… I wasn't even going to use it, not unless you went back on your word."

"You know I wouldn't do that," Virgil replied, his tone confident that Luke would agree. Sure enough, Luke nodded his accord.

"I'm sorry, Virgil," Luke's eyes were red as he took a few steps closer to where Virgil held his hand out. "I'm so sorry, I never meant…"

"It's okay," Virgil tried to soothe him but his gaze rested on the gun. Now in Luke's left hand it shook with all the intensity of his arm and Virgil was concerned that a finger spasm at the wrong time could be lethal for the both of them. "It's okay," he repeated, "just give me the gun."

Luke was millimetres from dropping the gun into Virgil's hand, when a voice startled both of them.

"Hello, Mathews," the British accent sneered, firm and demanding in its crisp tones.

Luke spun round, and pointed the gun still in his hand at the man who'd materialised from the shadows. There was no hesitation as he brought both hands up to steady his shaking and took steps to put himself between Virgil and the mystery assailant. Watching the drama, Virgil could only conclude from this man's tone of voice and Luke's reaction, that the new arrival couldn't be a good thing… …


	13. Chapter 13

_**In Too Deep - Chapter Thirteen**_

Sitting there at his desk, Jeff Tracy sighed and continued to fiddle with the small datastick in his hands. He'd listened to the contents several times after Tin-Tin had first played it, hoping to pick out something new or to be struck by a moment of inspiration. Instead, he just heard the same voices saying the same words, which left him with the same decision. He couldn't risk jeopardising Virgil's safety by acting now, he'd already decided that much; nor could he sit on the information forever. Penny had contacts, an anonymous tip-off would be the best approach but to whom? Where did the conspiracy stop?

He was just pondering that point when Penelope's portrait indicated an incoming call.

Welcoming of the distraction and any news he could get his hands on, he reached forward, "Go ahead, Penelope."

"Ah, Jeff," she took in his troubled features and offered him a comforting smile, even though she knew it would take more than that to ease his troubles. "I identified the man at the airport as Jake Field. Parker and I attempted to apprehend him. Unfortunately," her tone belied that comment, "Mr Field disregarded our requests for him to stop and we were forced to use drastic measures."

"How drastic, Penelope?" Jeff frowned.

"Well the police sergeant, ever so helpful young chap, said it looked like an unfortunate accident." She shrugged her delicate shoulders and her eyes sparkled, still feeling the thrill of the chase, "It seems one of his rear tyres ruptured and he finally came to halt in the most regrettable way," sarcasm dripped from her tone. "Overturned in the river. Parker tells me it was a spectacular sequence of events, I'm most perturbed that John distracted me from witnessing it." She could see her witty comments were not having the desired effect in lightening Jeff's mood and so turned her attention strictly to business. "The police officer tells me there's no sign of a body as yet but they're bringing a team of divers out here, the current's very strong, so I'm told."

"I see," Jeff nodded his understanding. He was listening to everything Penelope was telling him and yet, he was also distracted by the decision he knew he'd have to make soon, it hung ominously in the back of his mind. The uncertainty of it all was the worst part. Jeff Tracy was a man who liked hard facts and there was no black or white in this situation. Instead, everything seemed to be a miserable grey.

"Jeff, you look terrible," he was pulled from his thoughts at Penelope's blunt observation. "John apprised me of the developments with Virgil," she continued, as Jeff tried to comprehend her candour, Penelope never had been one to beat around the proverbial bush, "you must keep your strength up. We'll find him, I promise you."

"I'm fine, Penelope," Jeff's reaction was instinctive more than anything else. "Really, I'm fine and I'll be a whole lot finer still when the boys have got Virgil out and I know he's okay."

Penelope nodded, his unwillingness to acknowledge Jake's revelation didn't go unnoticed but she could understand his determination. Deep inside, she felt that same defiance. "Very well, but I'm certain you can't function forever on that insipid coffee you're so fond of," there was sympathy in her eyes but a firmness that told Jeff she meant what she was saying. "Now, do you have any more orders for me? Am I to head to the crash site?"

Jeff found his attention drawn to the datastick in his hands again as he continued to turn it over. He bit his top lip. "Actually Penny, I do have a few things I need taking care off and this one," he waved the datastick in the air, "is right up your street."

Penelope shot him an intrigued smile and cocked her head slightly to one side, "Do go on, Jeff," she purred.

"I don't intend to do anything until I know Virgil is safe but I want this stopped," his voice was filled with resolve. "I need to know how high it goes and who we can contact to make sure this is the end of it. I was hoping you'd be able to advise me on where's best to send this conversation," he looked up at her and waited for her response.

"Ah," realisation dawned for Penelope and she understood what was so important about the datastick. "I see. Well, I shall do some investigative work but don't worry, Jeff, I shall handle it. In the meantime, is there anything else I can assist you with or should I continue home and make a start with my enquiries?"

"Thanks for everything, Penelope," he nodded and gave her a genuine smile of appreciation, "you've been a great help, as always. Putting a stop to this MI R place will be a weight off my mind."

"Nonsense, Jeff, there's something else, I can tell," Penelope was as intuitive as ever and waited for him to explain. She could tell that there was a whole lot more than common decency on his mind and though she doubted Virgil being in mortal danger was helping, she knew she wasn't getting the full story. "What's bothering you?"

Jeff reached a hand up and rubbed the bridge of his nose, his eyes were tired and they felt gritty. Blinking to aid his sore eyes, he looked back at Penelope's live feed and shrugged, "It's nothing, Penny. I'm just concerned what kind of state Virgil's going to be in when they find him. The way the boys spoke, that neck wound seemed quite serious."

Penelope read him like words on an open page, it was an ease that came through the years of friendship they'd shared. "Virgil is a very strong willed young man, Jeff, he's a lot tougher than he looks, must be something in the genes," she smiled. Jeff found himself nodding. "But you're worried he might need urgent medical care," as usual she hit the nail on the head. "I can see your quandary, taking him to a conventional hospital may generate awkward questions either in the guise of International Rescue or the Tracy family, yet, his health must come first."

"I was hoping we'd be able to bring him back here for treatment," Jeff confided, not bothering to acknowledge her correct assessment of his thoughts, sometimes, she knew him too well. "But I guess we won't know anything until the boys get to him."

Penelope raised a hand to her chin, manicured pink nails, brushed against her skin as her eyelashes fluttered, "It just so happens I might be able to help you out there too. I'll need to make a few calls but a close friend of mine owes me a good turn, she might be able to help, no questions asked."

"She's a doctor?" Jeff raised an eyebrow, this sounded promising. There was no way he'd risk Virgil's health, but sparing the family or International Rescue the press coverage and the awkward questions would certainly be a bonus.

"Yes," Penelope nodded, glancing at her watch. "Ex-Army. I'm due to officially open her latest venture in a few weeks time, a private hospital in York designed for ex-Forces personnel. It's an extension of the family-run business. Her father was my own private physician."

Jeff wracked his brains, "You mean she's Dr. Mansfield's daughter?"

Penelope nodded, surprised at the accuracy of Jeff's memory, she rarely required the use of a doctor. "Yes, though Dr Mansfield became Sir Hugh Mansfield and retired, quite a few years back too, Jeff. Annie took over the running of the Harley Street practice but she's never been much in favour of the bright city lights, always yearned for the country air." She paused but could already see that the mention of the Army had an unsettling effect, "She is trustworthy, Jeff, she won't ask questions." She looked up at him, uncertain of his response, knowing how much he hated using outsiders but at the same, doubting he'd say no when it was Virgil's life on the line, "I know it's not an ideal situation, but as a last resort?"

Jeff took a few moments to contemplate what she was saying. "Okay, Penny, give her a call. If Virgil isn't fit enough to make it home, then we might need her. Send her details up to John, would you? Get him to run a background check."

Penelope acquiesced his order with a nod but added, "That isn't necessary, Jeff. She's a very dear friend of mine, and I can assure you, there'll be no ramifications from her involvement." She was her usual confident self but she knew deep down inside that Jeff would want every base covered.

"I'm glad you think that," Jeff's tone was stern and powerful, decisive, "but even so, I want her checked. Just in case. How long have you known her?"

"Longer than I've known you," Penelope raised an eyebrow and Jeff began to wonder if questioning her was such a wise move. "She will believe me when I tell her you are trustworthy, I expect you to do the same."

If he didn't know better, he'd have thought he'd upset her, "Okay, Penny," he conceded. He knew from past experience that upsetting Lady Penelope was not a wise move and whatever this doctor friend's background revealed, John would find it anyway.

"Very well, Parker and I shall head to York. I trust you'll keep us apprised of the situation," she looked up and met Jeff's gaze, hoping to impart her sympathy and strength.

"FAB," Jeff's curt nod expressed his reluctance at the situation and his desire to remain professional. He hoped she understood that he did appreciate her concern, though, and allowed a small grateful smile to tug at his lips.

As quickly as the call had come, it was gone and Jeff was left alone again. Despite his determination to remain hopeful, there were dark thoughts lurking in the back of his mind, the inevitable questions that had a history of plaguing his mind during tense rescue situations. There was a sense of dread in his heart as he couldn't help but wonder if this was the day he'd feared since that very first rescue, the day that haunted his worst nightmares, the day one of his sons wouldn't be returning home.

XxxxX

Virgil found himself pinned back against the desk as Luke took a few steps backwards. Putting his weight on the desk, Virgil peered over Luke's shoulder at the British man as he stepped into the ray of light from the ripped curtain. Luke seemed even more jumpy now and Virgil felt a little angry that this guy, whoever he was, had just undone all his hard work. Luke's left hand shook because of the failed experiment, but now Virgil could see his comrade's whole body was shaking in a similar manner.

"Well, well, well," the British man took another step forward and as a result, Luke took another step backwards, pushing his trembling body closer to Virgil. "You're not going to shoot me Mathews," there was a bitter laugh, "you couldn't even if you wanted to, look at you!"

Luke's breathing was quick and shallow, he swallowed and shifted his weight from foot to foot, anxiety written all over him. "Stay back, Foster… " Luke swallowed a second time, his voice wavered as much as the barrel of the gun as it jolted in time with his damaged hand. "Don't come anywhere near us."

"Foster?" Virgil muttered from behind Luke, the penny dropped and he realised who this guy was, he was supposed to be on their side and Virgil wondered why they were pointing guns at each other. "Foster?" Virgil spoke up, as loud as he could from behind Luke. "You're the guy in charge of all this?" Even to his own ears, his voice sounded weak but he battled on.

"Virgil, no!" Luke hissed, turning his head to one side but keeping his gaze on their foe. "Be quiet!"

"It's okay, Luke," Virgil placed a hand on Luke's shoulder and attempted to give it a squeeze, he was dismayed to find that Luke didn't even register the extra pressure. "Look, Foster, it's not what you think," Virgil began. "It's okay. Luke helped me, he saved my life, we've been waiting here for help, that's all."

Foster frowned hard and then moved to get a better view of Virgil. Luke's gun remained trained on him and moved as he did. He looked down at Virgil, casting his gaze up the injured pilot and then back down. "Who the hell are you?" he screwed his nose up.

"I'm with International Rescue, you've come to help us, right?" All of a sudden, Virgil felt confused. Considering this man was on their side, he didn't seem too forthcoming with any help and his attitude left a lot to be desired. Virgil felt Luke wince in front of him as soon as the words had left his lips.

"Help you?" Foster laughed, "yeah, I suppose you could say that." He took a few more steps into the room and again, Luke moved with him. Virgil felt grateful for the extra protection now he had a sneaking suspicion that Foster wasn't there to help them to safety. "International Rescue, huh? That explains a few things, I saw your friends land outside," Foster addressed Virgil, looking him direct in the eye. "I'm sorry you got caught up in this, I really am," his words seemed genuine but the offhand shrug of the shoulders and vacant expression told Virgil that, instead, he was just a damned good liar. "Cards on the table," Foster announced. "You," he waved his gun at Virgil, "know too much. And you," he turned to Luke, who held his own weapon out with renewed purpose, "you made a very big mistake trying to get away, you've ruined everything."

"It wasn't Luke's fault!" Virgil found himself jumping to his protector's defence. "It was the others."

"That what he told you?" Foster asked with a smirk plastered across his face. "It's always someone else's fault isn't it? We didn't blow the place when you called International Rescue," he took a step forward. "We didn't tell them who you were or stop them from rescuing you and this is how you repay us. We put trust in you and you ran! Not to mention shooting Dr Hunt!" his face was growing angrier by the second and with every charge he listed.

"That wasn't Luke either!" Virgil protested, he was taken aback that Luke hadn't attempted to defend himself yet but nonetheless wasn't prepared to hear any injustices against his companion.

"You've ruined everything now, you know that?" Foster's manner became menacing. Virgil frowned as Luke's trembling increased at the rise in Foster's tone. It struck him that maybe Luke was afraid of this man. "I'll let you in to a little secret. My assignment is to tie up the loose ends, to terminate any wandering experiments and I intend to make sure this job is successful." He flicked the safety catch off his gun with a loud click, against the long pause, "So, let's get on with this. If your colleagues are here then we don't have much time." He eyed Virgil. "You first…"

"No," Luke shook his head, taking a step forward, "I won't let you do this. He's nothing to do with your precious experiments, just let him go." He steadied the gun in his hands as best he could and tried to appear calm and in control. He still trembled uncontrollably though.

"You made him a part of this when you went on the run with him!" Foster bellowed, causing both Luke and Virgil to flinch. "You were the one that called them out!"

"Please don't shout," Virgil muttered against his pounding head, "my head's killing me."

Luke heard and lowered his tone even though he wasn't sure Virgil was being serious, "You would have left us down there to die if it hadn't been for us calling International Rescue," Luke accused, taking another step forward and growing with confidence. "We heard you and Hunt talking on the radio, we knew you'd already evacuated the rest. Look, if it's me you want then fine but let him go."

"I can't do that," Foster shook his head but his tone was emotionless. "I'm sorry, orders are orders," there was no remorse.

"No," Luke swallowed again, waving the gun about to prove his point. "I've got a gun here too, Foster. You take one step closer and I'll shoot."

"Luke," Virgil sighed still behind the shield of Luke's body. Deep down he wanted to say that violence wasn't the answer but he also knew just how ruthless the Secret Service could be when it came to orders and following them. He couldn't bring himself to tell Luke not to do it but his gaze kept shifting to the door, hoping that his brothers would get there in time to ambush their assailant.

Luke ignored him, "You'll never get away with this. Don't you think they'll find our bodies? People will ask questions! International Rescue are just outside and they're looking for him," he gestured to Virgil.

"I've planted so much C4 underneath this building that there won't be anything left of you for them to discover," Foster replied confidently. He barked a short laugh, "No-one's going to be suspicious, seems that plane of yours was carrying an awful lot of fuel, the fire spread to the control tower… Come on, Mathews!" he sighed, "You've learned your lesson the hard way, we can do what we like."

Luke's breathing quickened, "This isn't fair!"

"Life's not fair, International Rescue or no, some sacrifices have to be made. I've said I'm sorry, that's just the way it goes," Foster sneered, he flexed his fingers round the butt of his gun, as if in preparation for shooting.

"Just the way it goes?" Luke fumed, his shuddering hand causing the gun's barrel to shake too. "After everything you've done to us, done to me…"

"Oh please," Foster shrugged as he levelled his gun, "cut out the hard done by routine, you deserved everything you got. I'm not the one who broke the law." Bringing both hands up to steady his gun, he raised his eyebrows, "Now, I'm not being funny but I've only got about fifty five minutes left before these bombs go off and I don't intend to be anywhere near here when they do."

It hit Virgil that such a large amount of explosives would create a huge fireball, perhaps big enough to engulf his brothers outside and that he had to warn them. With plenty of caution and very little speed, he nudged the back of Luke's foot and flicked his eyes towards the desk. Luke understood and without hesitation, he aimed the gun above Foster's head and fired. The bullet pinged and ricocheted off a metal cabinet at the back on the room, giving them the diversion they needed to move to safety before Foster could respond.

As Luke grabbed him and they made a dual attempt to dive behind the desk, Virgil wasn't sure whether the returning volley was echoing round the room or just in his head. Between the intermittent sounds of gunfire, shattering wood and bullets rebounded off metal, the smell of singed materials hung in the air.

Virgil could only hope that his brothers would run from the disruption and not to it.

XxxxX

"Go ahead, Base," John waited for his father's image to appear, a little impatient at the constant nagging he'd been exposed to over the last half hour or so. As if he didn't have enough on his plate, liaising with the base, various brothers and Penelope. Not to mention helping Brains' and Tin-Tin's search and also trying to recognise the voice from the recording. Now his father wanted a background check on some friend of Penelope's, it was hardly an appropriate time to be bringing people in to the fold.

"John, have you done that check? Anything?" Jeff didn't waste time on pleasantries and moved in for the kill.

"Check's running as we speak, nothing as yet," John began to reel off, his brow furrowed as he glanced at another monitor. "Scott's arrived at Ferryhill and Gordon's just landing now. Penny's on her way to York and neither Tin-Tin nor Brains have found anything as yet." He offered his father a tight smile at the list of developments.

Jeff raised an eyebrow and nodded. Catching the harassed undertone in John's voice, he softened and sat back in his chair with a loud sigh. "I see, thanks, John. You okay, Son?" he asked, a little warily.

"Yep," John's tone was terse, "I'm just fine." Jeff frowned wondering where between sarcasm and irritation that reply fell. "What are we going to do about this recording?" John didn't give him much time to ponder the thought and moved the conversation on, for which Jeff was thankful, he'd come to the conclusion that this was one of the few times in his life that he'd seen John exhibit any outward signs that he was stressed.

"Penelope's going to handle it. She'll find out how far up the chain of command it goes and then hand all the information to someone in an appropriate position," Jeff was confident that the solution would solve any potential reoccurrences, for now at least.

John nodded, content with that plan. Like his father, he felt that they should do something to stop this happening again, but was at a loss at to what they could do without either compromising their anonymity or publicising this disastrous rescue. "So, you don't need this information, after all." He tapped a file to his left, the one his father had been adamant he should send down earlier.

"No," Jeff grinned in admiration at John's unique way of making a point. "No, Son, you were right, I don't need it," he conceded, watching John's features shine, it wasn't every day the old man was proved wrong about something. In fact, John struggled to remember any time at all. "But," Jeff added, "it's always good to have a back up plan. How's your search for the mystery voice going?" He moved the conversation on before John could gloat too much, but was pleased to see that a certain amount of the tension he'd radiated was evaporating.

"Hmm," John shrugged, "not well. I've started at the beginning of operations and I'm cross referencing every file we have with the voice recognition program, and so far nothing, but it's slow going." He paused to let his shoulders flop, "I guess I hadn't realized just how many rescues we'd been on."

Jeff sensed his despondence even though there weren't any recognisable outward signs. "Keep going, John, you'll get there, it'll just take …."

"Mr Tracy!" Tin-Tin bounded into the room, interrupting their conversation. "Oh," she paused, looking at John, "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to interrupt." She was apologetic but made no attempt to stop, either. Coming from Tin-Tin, John assumed it must be important and waited for her to go on. "It's just Brains has been analysing the information we recovered," she paused, looking at John and blushing at his frown, the use of the plural again. He'd have to question his younger brothers about all this hacking business later, there was something fishy about it. "He managed to calculate the frequency that these tracking devices run on and it seems that there's only one left now!"

"Only one?" Jeff frowned, "That means that the other prisoner is dead," he concluded.

"Yes, Mr Tracy," she nodded, looking between him and John. "I've cross referenced the material Alan sent me from Thunderbird Two and the signals match, one of the body signals Alan picked up is also sending out this tracking information."

"But Alan said there were three heat signals coming from that building and all human too!" John exclaimed, frowning as he puzzled over putting the pieces together.

"Yes, John," Tin-Tin nodded vigorously, causing strands of hair to fall down from their pinned-up position. "This means that the two other people in the building aren't sending out any signals. If one is Virgil, who is the other one?" her hopeful expression saddened at the possibility she was suggesting.

"Good question, Tin-Tin, good question and I've got a horrible feeling I know the answer," Jeff frowned, not liking the situation one tiny bit. There was only one person left unaccounted for who wouldn't be transmitting any kind of signal and Jeff was loathe to think what might happen if he arrived at Ferryhill before the boys had reached Virgil.

"Oh God," John began, obvious reluctance in his tone, "it's got to be the guy from the recording…"

"That's what I was afraid of, John," Jeff paled. "Contact Scott, now!"

"Already on it," John nodded his leave. "The first check just finished running on Penelope's doctor friend," he glanced over at the appropriate screen and skim-read the information it was telling him, "all the preliminaries look good, Father. I'll let you know if there's anything further to report." His words were rushed and he turned away as Scott answered the call, "Scott," he began, "I've got bad news…"

"FAB," Jeff's deep frown and worry filled eyes dismissed John and turned to Tin-Tin. "Tin-Tin, if Brains can spare you, I need you to ready Ladybird and Tracy One for flight."

"Yes, Mr Tracy," she replied in her sing-song voice. Even at times as disastrous as this where, behind the make-up she'd tried to cover it with, her eyes were red and her throat was still clogged with unhappy emotions, she still tried to sound strong. Not hesitating, she headed away from Mr Tracy's desk, furiously wiping a tear as it began it's journey down her cheek, now was not the time to give in to her emotions, she had work to do.

XxxxX

Virgil had slumped to the floor, behind the cover of the desk and was letting Luke do his best to defend them. He felt confused and his body, once more, was protesting as the events caught up with him. The fatigue was attacking again and though he thought of how he'd fought it off before, in the jet and the Mole and even right here in this room, he didn't think he could face doing that again. Besides, every time he fought it off, the respite was only temporary and then it'd return, stronger than it had been before. They were so close to safety now, they'd worked so hard to get there, yet fate still wasn't prepared to give them an easy run.

The gunfire had only gone on seconds but to Virgil and his pounding head, it felt like it had been an eternity. The way Luke's hand shook, there wasn't much chance of a direct hit but it was enough to hold Foster off for now. Only delaying the inevitable maybe, Virgil thought, but he was grateful for the extra seconds.

"Give it up, Matthews," Foster shouted above the barrage of bullets. "It's over, you'll never get out of here alive!"

Luke looked across to Virgil with a pained expression and for a few seconds there was a temporary ceasefire. Virgil's ears were ringing from the constant banging though, and Luke's loud shout told him that he was having the same reaction, "Well, if we die, so will you!" He heaved a heavy sigh and squatted down alongside Virgil, looking across at him in concern, "Virgil, are you alright?"

"Yeah," Virgil forced out. Breathing was becoming laboured between the pain in his chest, the smoke on his lungs and the dust in the atmosphere but he soldiered on as best as he could.

"I'm so sorry," Luke's eyes were red, his remorse at their predicament was one hundred percent genuine and there wasn't a doubt in Virgil's mind. "I'm sorry you got caught up in all this, it's all my fault."

"No," Virgil shook his head, "no, it's not your fault, it's his fault," he tried to smile, but was sure it turned into a grimace somewhere between his brain giving the signal and his muscles responding.

A few more shots rang out, one piercing the wooden desk by Luke's arm and sending splinters into the air. He winced and then looked down at the gun in his hand, tightened his grip and swallowed hard. "Do me a favour," he puffed his chest out, meeting Virgil's gaze head on, "find Lisa and Ben, tell them that I love them both, that I never stopped loving them and that I never will." Virgil frowned at him, his mind working a few steps behind, he began to shake his head as Luke made an attempt to push himself to his feet. Virgil had seen that look before plenty of times, usually in one of his brothers moments before they made some valiant attempt to save him, it was a look of sacrifice.

"No!" Virgil grabbed his wrist and held it as tight as he could, "Luke, don't do this," he begged, too weak to stop him.

Luke swallowed and then reached his other hand down to Virgil's, his shaking fingers prized his wrist free of Virgil's flimsy grasp. "I can't let him hurt you; this isn't anything to do with you." Virgil's eyes widened in horror as Luke confirmed his suspicions. "And I can't be responsible for putting your three younger brothers through everything I've been through."

"You're not thinking straight," Virgil shook his head. He was overcome with emotion, he felt weak and fragile but was overwhelmed that Luke would surrender his life for him. He felt his own eyes reddening, the intensity of the situation was just the icing on the cake. "I can't get out of here without your help," his voice trembled as much as Luke's hands.

"I am thinking straight, I'm thinking perfectly straight," Luke replied. "Your life is worth more than mine, ten times more," it was said with such certainty and detachment that it sounded like they were discussing the price of beans in Outer Mongolia, nothing as important as life and death. "You'll go on to save thousands of life because you'll make it, I know you will," he unwittingly repeated the very words Virgil had dreamed of hearing from his older brother. Virgil was surprised by the repetition and confusion reigned for the precious few seconds it took Luke to push himself to his knees. "Remember, what I said about Lisa and Ben," Luke swallowed as he placed a hand out to Virgil's shoulder and gave it a soft squeeze. The gesture was undersized compared to what it conveyed.

"No, Luke…" Virgil was too late. Taking the gun in his hands, Luke stepped out from the protection of the table and into the war zone around them, poised for action and the consequences that came with it.

Virgil pushed himself to his knees, using his cold hands and his injured wrists for support. His body protested, sending spasms of pain through all the nerves he could still feel. Finally he was rewarded, his vision reached the desk top and he was able to peer over it, onto the floor beyond. He could see that his discussion with Luke had given Foster valuable time and that he'd moved closer, still weaving between the cabinets but now close enough for that vital shot.

Luke stood out from the desk, away from all cover from the incoming onslaught, Virgil's gun in his hands and finger ready. "Come on, Foster, show yourself!" he didn't shout but his voice was loud enough that there was no way Foster hadn't heard.

First a leg came into view from between the cabinets and then the rest of the dark clothing that helped Foster move so covertly became clear. He had his gun in his right hand but it was evident that he hadn't perceived Luke as a threat. Virgil turned to Luke, watching every muscle in his body tense and his brow furrow in concentration.

"You're not going to …" Foster's voice travelled through the air, and to Virgil it sounded warped as time slowed down to afford him to take in every single gesture. Luke's eyes closed and his concentration paid off, for a few critical seconds, his hand stopped shaking. Then it happened and he pulled the trigger.

It all happened so fast, as if time were claiming back the seconds it had slowed down. Several shots fired off in quick succession but the echoing off the walls made it difficult to tell who was firing at whom. Flashes of light and movement blurred the dark surroundings.

Virgil closed his eyes and ducked his head behind the desk. His gut was telling him to get out of danger and his trembling increased with every shot fired but he was frozen to the spot, too alarmed to move. He only opened his eyes again when he heard a muffled cry from the other side of the room, the gunshots ceased on both sides and he began to work up the courage to peer over the desk. With clear hesitation, he placed his hands on the wooden top and allowed his eyes to take in the scene.

Foster was pinned between two filing cabinets, on his knees. Two sinister spots on his chest were spreading and merging into one, causing the dark material to take on a wet, burgundy appearance. He was looking down at his chest in surprise, swaying as if he might slump to the floor at any moment. When he looked back up, his eyes were wide but determined and his face pale, drained of all colour, in contrast to his dark clothes. He lifted the gun in his hands with every ounce of concentration he had and, though his eyes remained on Luke, Virgil was surprised to find the barrel pointed in his direction.

"They're coming…" Foster's eyes flicked to the door and Virgil knew it was a reference to his brothers but the last thing he wanted was for them to walk into this deadly situation. "They'll…. They'll never believe… it wasn't …. you…" Foster managed to gasp out, he screwed his nose up against the pain and his eyes focused on Virgil, his gaze was intense and deliberate.

Startled, Virgil found himself starring at the barrel of the gun in disbelief. For the second time, he faced the notion that he was about to be shot, only this time there was no chance Foster was bluffing. He felt the edges of consciousness blur around him as he tried to shake off the shock. Then it dawned on him, Foster was dying and with Virgil dead too, in his brothers' eyes Luke would be the prime suspect for the double murder, given his past record.

Virgil had barely had time to process the thought before his instincts were screaming out to him to move, to run as fast as his body would allow, to dart out of the line of fire, to do anything. But the interruption between his brain sending the message out and his body responding was far too long.

The shot fired and he could only squeeze his eyes closed in anticipation, willing his broken body to take action.

The pain wasn't what he'd expected, more of a dull thud than a sharp agony. Suddenly he was falling and the air was whipped from his lungs. He hit the hard wood floor with a crash, struggling to breathe but for all the wrong reasons. There was no searing pain in his chest, but instead he felt an incredible weight crushing his lungs and hindering his breathing. The results of the beating had manifested themselves in the shape of large, painful bruises, maybe even a few cracked ribs, and Virgil felt that the force on his chest was now bringing those other injuries, minor in comparison to the rest, to the surface.

Blissful silence reigned as all gunfire ceased again. The ringing in Virgil's ears dulled to an odd throbbing sensation as it pulsated in time with his heart, rapid and loud. He could feel his ears becoming red and hot as the blood rush continued. He didn't know whether he dared entertain the idea that it might be over, so many questions were left unanswered, had Foster finally collapsed? Where was Luke? What did the silence mean?

Listening to every small sound, he picked out Foster's groaning but it seemed so far away. He allowed himself a moment, periodically forcing himself to breathe, frantic for the air but at the same time desperate to avoid the pain. With sudden clarity, he was aware of something tickling his face and his brain slowly put the information his senses were telling him together. Taking as much air into his lungs as he could muster, he opened his eyes, attempting to focus on the oppressive weight making it so difficult for him to breathe. The colours swam into a synchronised pattern and formed the picture Virgil had been afraid of seeing.

"Oh, God, no," he muttered to himself, comprehension dawning that the weight on his chest was in fact Luke and that the young man was making no attempt to move. "Luke?" he asked, placing his mouth alongside Luke's ear as he spoke. "Luke, can you hear me? I need you to…" he had to stop in order to force another breath into his lungs, "I need you to move. I can't …. I can't breathe. You hear me?" There was no reply. "Luke?"

Panic was beginning to set in as he realised that the struggle to breathe was only increasing, he had to do something. "Luke?" he tried again, a little louder but got no response. "Come on, talk to me," he reached a hand up to Luke's head, horrified to find it blood-slicked when he pulled it away. His hand began to tremble, and as if that wasn't reason enough to panic, the sound of something being dragged closer to him penetrated his buzzing eardrums. Virgil froze, listening hard and trying to identify what the sound was. He flinched when a hand grasped the leg of the heavy desk he was sheltering behind, with a bang. The tips of the fingers whitened as the owner clutched the wood and used the grip to haul himself forward causing an ominous dragging sound.

Swallowing hard, Virgil looked around the floor, searching for anything he could use to defend himself. His breathing was becoming more haggard, quickening and exerting him more. He considered attempting to somehow shuffle away from the danger but with Luke's heavy body pinning him down, he could barely breathe let alone move. And then his eyes fell on the answer to all his problems. There on the cold floor, inches from his leg, lay the gun Luke had wielded only minutes earlier.

The cold metal glinted in the few rays of sunlight the curtains allowed. It sparkled like a diamond amongst a sack of coal but Virgil was dismayed to find that despite stretching every muscle he had, it lay out of reach. His fingernails scratched at the floor, desperate to reach those extra few centimetres that would make all the difference but his plight was fruitless.

As Foster managed to pull himself along the floor, accompanied by the sound of hauling weight and the odd grunt, Virgil continued his futile attempts to reach the gun, frustrated that it was so close and yet so far. There was no ethical question in his mind about whether he could actually shoot this man, no rational thought, it was pure instinct but he knew it was like Scott had said all those years, _Sometimes it's a case of kill or be killed. _Virgil wasn't ready to die and went back to clawing against the floor with renewed vigour, his nails scratching the wax and dust off the wood.

Foster rounded the desk, shaking with exertion as he met Virgil's gaze and aimed his gun. His eyes closed, as if he needed the extra few seconds to draw the strength required to pull the trigger. Virgil used the time wisely, making one final attempt to scramble for his gun but it was too late. It was his one and only chance of any sort of defence and it lay just out of reach for his extended fingers…

XxxxX

Alan placed a hand on the pilot's seat to steady himself as Thunderbird Two made her descent. He could see through the windscreen below them that Scott had already arrived and was jogging over to the remnants of the jet, no doubt to make some kind of assessment. "Gee, that fire's really something," Alan muttered, eyeing the thick black smoke and the bright yellow flames.

"Yeah, we're lucky no one's reported it," Gordon replied, biting his bottom lip as the great ship jolted, finally touching down.

"Well, remember what John said? I think someone has reported it, but this Four guy is holding the emergency services off coming." Alan went on, a frown developing. "It really shouldn't be burning like that."

Gordon pushed the steering yoke away as he stood and stretched his back, rolling his neck from one side to the other, "What do you mean?" he frowned. They moved together to the back of the pod but Gordon hesitated and turned back for one last check that everything was as it was supposed to be.

"Well, think about it…" Alan began. Standing still and waiting for Gordon to catch up with him. "That jet…"

"What the hell is Scott doing!" Gordon suddenly exclaimed, leaning forward over the instrumentation in the cockpit to look out onto the tarmac below. "He's too close!" in a flash, Gordon had spun round and was heading for the exit. "Come on, Alan!" he bellowed as he hurried past his blond brother. Alan let out an aggravated sigh but followed Gordon, attempting to catch up with him.

Below Thunderbird Two's nose, Scott was heading towards the flames of the burning jet. When he'd started out, it had been a reconnaissance trip in order to ascertain whether the flames posed a threat or not, but as he got closer, he decided to investigate.

Try as he might to forget what Jake had said, it still lingered at the back of his mind that Virgil could be amongst the rubble somewhere. He flexed his injured hand, able to feel the fury pounding through his veins, fury that they'd been put in this position, that his little brother was suffering because of it and that he felt so helpless.

As his eyes searched the rubble, he found he was loathe to move his gaze for fear that he would see something he didn't want to, but he forced himself. If Jake had been right then the last thing he wanted was for either of his younger brothers to make the discovery. There was only so much you could see from the outside, the jet was a shell of its former glory, burnt and warped beyond recognition.

He took a few steps closer but there was a small explosion and he was pushed back by the power of the flames. Then he saw something that made his heart constrict, the sole of a boot where it lay amongst the dancing reds and oranges. Thankfully, the rubble of the wing covered the rest of what was there and Scott was unsure whether it was anything more than a discarded shoe. With the very thought that his brother might have been aboard that jet came the urge to leap forward, regardless of the danger, and see for himself.

"Scott!" his head whipped round as he heard Gordon call his name and he saw his aquanaut brother running towards him, Alan hot on his heels. "Get away from there! It's not safe!"

Scott ignored him, turning back to the rubble, he had to know and he had to find out quick, he couldn't allow Gordon to see. He turned with the intention to step over the smoking rubble, closer to the body in the flames. Instead though, the fire was successful in its ambition to eat through the covering wing and it crumbled to the ground, destroyed. As the wing fell, it exposed the scene and Scott squeezed his eyes shut.

"What the hell are you doing!" Gordon exclaimed, reaching his older brother and placing a hand on his shirt, pulling him back from the danger of the flames. Scott opened his eyes but still the image was burned into his brain. His pained expression was enough for Gordon to realise what was going on. "Oh, God," he shook his head, glancing back at the rubble.

"No, Gordon!" Scott grabbed him by the shoulders and spun him round so as they were facing each other. "Don't look," Scott frowned at him.

Gordon looked at the haunted expression on his brother's face and then swallowed, the tears ready and waiting to pool in his eyes, "It's not… it's not him, is it? Tell me it's not."

Scott placed an arm around the younger man's shoulders and began to lead him away. "No," Scott sighed, gently pulling him away from the scene, "No, it's not him."

Gordon let out a heavy sigh, letting his weight sag against Scott's strong frame, "Thank God," he whispered. "Thank God."

"Yeah," Scott swallowed, squeezing Gordon's shoulders in reassurance as they walked towards Alan. He was as thankful as Gordon, even if he wasn't quite as vocal about it, but he was already eyeing the building ahead of them. Planning how to get in, wondering where Virgil might be and what kind of resistance they'd come up against. If John was right then there was one mighty unhappy special agent inside.

"Hey," Gordon mumbled as they walked across the tarmac, "nice coat, by the way."

Trust Gordon. "Thanks," Scott smirked as they came to stand alongside Alan. "Okay," Scott began, "here's the plan. Virgil must be inside that building somewhere but we also know that there are two others with him, either, or both, of which could be hostile. We're going in weapons drawn and I want you two to follow my lead, no heroics right? Virgil's counting on us to get him out of there." Gordon nodded but Alan was still watching the flames of the crashed jet, a calculating frown on his features. "Alan? Are you listening to me?"

"Hmm," the blond haired brother nodded. He gestured to the wreckage in front of them, "What's wrong with this scene?" he asked.

"We don't have time for this!" Scott glowered. "We've got to get to Virgil, now listen!"

"I'm serious!" Alan turned to them, waving his hands towards the remnants of the jet again, "This fire is colossal."

"Yeah well," Scott shrugged but didn't face him, "it's a jet, Alan, it would've had a lot of fu…" he trailed off as he realised what he was about to say wouldn't have made any sense. Turning to his younger brother, realisation dawned.

"Fuel?" Alan cocked an eyebrow. "This jet only had one fuel tank, there's no way it should be burning this quickly, or this aggressively. Unless someone's put some kind of accelerant on it."

Gordon began to nod, "He's right," he looked towards Scott and quickly looked to the collapsed wing and the way the body had been positioned, out of sight. "This rubble is white hot; a normal fire wouldn't get this hot. Someone's trying to cover it up, disposing of the evidence." His words made sense and Scott could see Alan was of the same opinion.

"Tying up loose ends," Alan agreed, remembering the conversation they'd heard. "That's what that guy said, on the recording; he was tying up loose ends."

Scott's eyes widened as he looked between his two younger brothers. They were all thinking the same thing as all three sets of eyes turned to the control tower but no one wanted to voice the thought.

"Let's go," Scott began marching towards the building, Gordon and Alan followed, but they'd only taken a few steps when several loud bangs reached their hearing. "Get down!" Scott and Gordon dove for the floor, recognising the sound immediately, Alan had no such experience, but was pushed to the floor by his oldest brother. The volley of shots lasted only a few moments but was alarming, to say the least.

"What was that?" Alan frowned as he began to sit up.

"Gunfire," Scott and Gordon replied, almost in unison.

"Gunfire?" Alan gulped as he was dragged against the safety of Thunderbird Two's underbelly. "Where the hell from?"

"Good question," Scott responded, pulling out his gun and checking it. Gordon was doing the same. "It sounded muffled to me, Gordy?"

"Yeah, I agree," he nodded. "It's got to be coming from that control tower. There's nowhere else round here for anyone to be."

"We were being shot at?" Alan screeched, still getting over the initial shock.

"No," Gordon responded. "They weren't shooting at us. It was either a warning for us to back off or…." he bit his lip and let his gaze meet Scott's, exchanging thoughts and plans without saying a word.

"Or what?" Alan found himself gulping again at the implication. A little frustrated that he was being kept out of the loop.

"Or it was someone else shooting at…" Scott trailed off, "someone else." He gestured to the building, "We need to get over there," he paused for effect, "now!" He began to move, issuing orders as he went, "Alan, hang back and follow us. Gordon, follow my lead, are you ready?"

With a nod of assent from Gordon, they scurried over to the building as one. Alan was still a little shell-shocked but hurried to keep up with his brothers. His eyes scanned the area as he moved, in a constant state of alertness. His heart thudded against his chest at the thought that more shots could come their way and they were, in effect, running into danger. The thought that Virgil was inside was enough to quell his fear though. Even if the building were full of armed soldiers just waiting to shoot at them, if it meant they'd get Virgil back he'd do it without a second thought.

"John," Alan heard Scott call into his watch, belatedly realising that at some point he'd put a call in to Thunderbird Five. "We're heading to the control tower now, that's where the shots have come from," Scott was continuing, "FAB."

Alan's gaze flicked between his two older brothers as they exchanged urgent hand signals. Gordon broke off and went to the left, whilst Scott gestured for Alan to follow him and headed right.

Alan did as he was told without question, keeping a few steps behind Scott as they made their way round the building. Every so often, he'd watch as Scott stopped and tested the boarded-up windows, seeing if he could gain entry and muttering to himself when he couldn't. After repeating this process a few times, he finally found one with a gap. His fingers had just edged round the hardboard when another torrent of shots rang out. Grabbing the back of Alan's head, he pushed them both to the floor, crouching down underneath the window with their backs against the wall.

"You okay, Kid?" Scott looked at his younger brother's pale features, concerned.

"Fine," Alan gulped.

Scott was raising his watch, halfway through calling Gordon when the redhead beat him to it. "Go ahead, Gordon, are you okay?" Scott kept his voice low, his gun was still drawn and his eyes scanned the area for anything that could be deemed hostile.

"Fine," came Gordon's anxious reply. "Are you?" Scott's nod was enough and he went on. "Those shots were definitely coming from inside here. I've found a doorway that's been kicked in. Can you make your way round here?"

"FAB," Scott nodded again and pulled Alan to his feet as he disconnected the call. "Come on, this way," Scott gestured to the other side of the building and with great caution, they moved.

When they reached Gordon, he was waiting by the opposite side of the door, gun at the ready. Alan could tell, just from the way he stood that he was itching to get inside and give these guys hell. Alan couldn't blame him either. He watched in awe as his older brothers communicated via hand signals and Scott gestured to his eyes, warning them to stay alert. Alan wasn't fluent in understanding the hand signals but managed to grasp that he was supposed to be following both his brothers in, taking up the rear. As Scott and Gordon moved in one fluid motion, side stepping into the building, Alan drew his gun and followed, sweeping their path and praying that no one materialised from the shadows.

The search of the passageway drew blanks; all the rooms were boarded up and locked. Then Alan spotted an open doorway at the very end of the corridor. Nudging Gordon, who was closest, he pushed the door open further, stepping inside and checking that it was clear.

"In here, guys!" Gordon whispered fiercely as he hurried over to the outstretched body in the centre of the room. He whipped a glove off to check for a pulse, just as Scott and Alan stepped into the doorway. Scott darted over to where Gordon was kneeling alongside a pool of blood but Alan took a more contemplative approach, turning his attention to the trail of blood across the floor. He cocked his head to one side and frowned, realising that this man had hauled himself across the floor and concluding that there had to be a good reason why. Looking at the way his body lay perpendicular to the table, Alan concluded that whatever he was trying to reach was hidden by the heavy wooden desk.

"I know this guy!" Scott's gaze met Gordon's. "It's the guy from the center, the fire chief, what was his name… Foster, Matt Foster."

Gordon's gaze passed quickly to the black camouflaged clothes Foster was wearing and then the gun inches from his hand. "I think he was more than the fire chief, Scott." He removed his fingers from the lukewarm skin. "He's dead," he added with a shake of the head.

"Then who shot him?" Scott's cursed. "And where the hell is…"

"Scott!" Scott was interrupted by the shout, though it sounded nothing like his younger brother, the voice was soft and shaky, filled with unease.

"Al?" Scott trailed off as he followed Alan's fixed gaze to behind the table, he moved so as he was stood alongside his brother, seeing exactly what he was seeing. "Oh my God," he muttered, eyes widening as he moved closer, skidding along the floor. "Virgil…"


	14. Chapter 14

****

**_In Too Deep – Chapter Fourteen _**

_(The Penultimate Chapter) _

John's gaze was pulled from where he stared out at space, deep in thought, as one of the nearby consoles emitted five quick bleeps and then began spewing out paper. He hurried over, struggling to fold the reels of paper tumbling out faster then he could manage it, and began glancing over the finds.

After relaying Scott's call to his father, he'd continued with all his many tasks but he'd found that his mind was drifting and he was struggling to concentrate. Another cup of coffee didn't seem to help; in fact it just made him feel guilty that he was drinking coffee whilst his brothers were being shot at. Deep down, he knew he was just tired and that if he could've afforded the luxury of just an hour's sleep, it would have done him the world of good. He didn't even want to think about how long it'd been since he'd slept. Not that he was complaining, they were all in the same boat as far as rest was concerned but it was a big factor in his inability to concentrate. And, unlike on the ground, there was no one else on Thunderbird Five to rally him into action.

It was something that he'd learned to cope with over his years with International Rescue. There were times when rescues stretched over days, or came in quick succession, when sleep wasn't always available. It was something you had to tolerate and John had found that if he worked through the sleep barrier, energy normally returned.

Not this time though. There wasn't anything normal about this rescue.

Scanning over the information in his hands, he opened a channel to base, "Thunderbird Five to Base, come in please."

"Go ahead, Son, what is it?" John's monitor was replaced by a rather anxious looking picture of his father.

"Just to let you know that I've got the results of the background check on Annie Mansfield," John reported, still reading over the finds as he spoke. "Nothing major to report; her military files were classified, it seems she did a lot of work for the Special Operations Branch. Honorably discharged three years ago after an operation in Northern Ireland," John shrugged and pulled a face.

"Good," Jeff nodded and rubbed a hand along his chin, "I didn't doubt it after Penny suggested her but I'd rather we were sure." He paused, "Nothing from Scott yet?" the furrows on his forehead deepened.

"No," John shook his head, wishing he could somehow relieve the deep worry his father obviously felt, "I'm expecting him to call in at any moment though, Father," he added, attempting to provide some kind of optimism.

"Okay," the nod by means of reply was a disappointed one, despite John's best efforts. "Tin-Tin's readied Ladybird and Tracy One for flight. I'm going to ask her to pick your Grandmother up."

John understood why his father might need his own private jet too, but didn't comment or ask questions. He was about to speak again when the beeping of another system stopped him. He moved quickly to attend to the noise, hoping it was Scott.

"Is that Scott? Patch him through," it was evident Jeff was thinking along the same lines but John had to disappoint him again.

"No, sorry, Dad, but it's not Scott, it's the voice recognition program. I've got a match," John's words slowed as he took in what the system was telling him. He frowned, "Damn it!" he cursed, "I can't believe I didn't check that sooner!" he muttered to himself before looking up to meet his father's expectant gaze. "The guy from the recording and the chief fire marshal from the Research Center are one and the same; a guy called Foster from what I can make out."

"You'd better warn your brothers," Jeff's tone was curt, showing his displeasure. "Do it quietly though, John, they may be in the middle of something," he warned, bearing in mind their last situation report of shots being fired. "If his voice matches the one of the special agent on the recording, I think we can conclude that he ranks a little higher than 'fire chief'."

"You think he was in charge of this place?" John bit his bottom lip and thought before beginning to nod in agreement with his father's logic.

"It makes sense," Jeff replied, "the agent from the recording was obviously responsible for that facility." The words echoed in Jeff's mind, he'd listened to the conversation so many times in the hope that he might be able to pick out some kind of missing link.

"I'd better contact the guys. If this guy, Foster, is at the crash site, we might be in trouble," John offered him a brief but stern nod and closed down the channel, already making preparations to put in a discreet call to one of his brothers using their own secret Code Five.

XxxxX

Scott collapsed to his knees and skidded along the floor, coming to a halt alongside Virgil's head. His heart began to echo in his ears as his eyes took in the scene in front of him; two bodies collapsed together in a huddle, neither making any attempt to move.

Scott swallowed and reached out to Virgil's limp shoulders, manoeuvring round the dead weight on his brother's chest. He was ever aware that behind him, Gordon and Alan were huddling closer, eager for some kind of news.

"Virgil?" Scott's pupils were wide and frantic, darting about in the confines of his eye-sockets. His tone of voice was strained, portraying his strong sense of anxiety as he willed his brother to move, open his eyes, do something. Anything. "Virgil, wake up," he bit his lips together, taking Virgil's shoulders as best he could and giving the limp body in his hands a shake. The action didn't have the desired affect, mainly due to the fact that Luke's weight on Virgil's chest pinned him to the ground with little leeway.

"How is he?" Gordon asked, a deep frown of concern marring his features as he knelt down alongside Scott. "He's okay, isn't he?"

Scott swallowed back his revulsion at the mess of congealed soot and blood all over Virgil's face, together with the large gashes and bruised, swollen flesh. He offered Gordon what he hoped was a reassuring glance.

"Virgil, can you hear me?" he turned his attention back to his stricken brother and sighed in relief as Virgil's eyelids slowly parted to reveal sluggish brown eyes. "Thank God!" Scott exclaimed, a smile breaking out on his features. There couldn't have been a more beautiful sight, in his mind, than his brother looking back up to him. The smile soon slipped from his face as Virgil's gaze penetrated him and he realised that his brother wasn't mirroring his relief, instead there was a panic contained in Virgil's eyes that Scott rarely ever saw.

Virgil tried to be rational, afraid to hope that his brothers might have reached him at long last; he knew he couldn't take the disappointment if it was just Luke again. He struggled to divide his concentration between focusing and forcing air into his lungs, it was such an effort to breathe that his wheezing echoed in his ears.

"S-Scott?" he managed to pant out, as the dark colours combined to form a blurry image of his brother. He still wasn't one hundred percent sure why his brother was dressed in a black coat of some kind but he'd recognise those blue eyes anywhere. The more his vision cleared the more certain he became. "Can't…. b-b-breathe," he gasped, chest shuddering with every attempt to get oxygen into his battered body.

Scott gripped his shoulder, hoping to reassure him as he moved closer. The anxiety Virgil exuded was unmistakable but the words he uttered were indistinct. His voice was faint but Scott soon became acutely aware of what his brother was trying to tell him when he realised how hampered Virgil's breathing sounded. Driven into action, he broke Virgil's intense gaze to look up at Gordon. "Get this guy off him, he can't breathe!" he ordered, moving his hands to Luke's torso, he rolled the dead weight off Virgil and towards Gordon. Gordon was careful, supporting Luke's head but Scott's frustration at Virgil's injuries manifested itself with an angry shove, more concerned at allowing his brother to breathe again.

"Is he okay?" Gordon abandoned Luke, to shuffle closer to his prone brother and became aware of Alan hovering nearby, eager for reassurance of Virgil's condition.

Scott had returned to Virgil's side, his vision drawn to the mess of bruises on his brother's chest, where his shirt had been ripped away. Meeting Virgil's panicked gaze again, Scott tried to appear unruffled and in control, in the hope it would calm Virgil too. "Easy, Virg, just breathe, nice and slow."

Having seen the way Scott had manhandled Luke, Virgil's interests lay with his wounded rescuer rather than his inability to breathe and he turned his head towards Gordon. "Luke," his chest shuddered and he had to pause to let the tremor run through him before he attempted to go on, "Luke…" he tried again but his lungs betrayed him.

"It's okay, Virg," Gordon reached forward to grasp his other shoulder, "it's okay, he's gone. It's over," he tried to reassure him but Virgil began to shake his head. Pain erupted somewhere deep in his brain but the moan he let out wasn't just agony, it was frustration as well.

Gordon misunderstood, so Virgil turned to Scott, hoping he'd understand. "No…" he tried to swallow but it was a mistake, further depriving himself of the vital seconds he needed to drag air into his lungs.

"Try to calm down, Virgil, it's alright," Scott's tone was firm and his hand moved to brush against Virgil's grubby hair, doing his best to soothe his brother. "Just concentrate on breathing first, okay?" Virgil managed a nod and closed his eyes, trying to unite every ounce of energy he had left. "Alan," he heard Scott order, "go back to Thunderbird Two, get a stretcher and the med kit." Alan didn't respond to the order immediately, instead staring at the scene in front of him in a state of shock, until Scott's voice rose, "Go! Now!"

Virgil winced as the loud shout echoed in his pounding head. A sudden memory flared, "No!" he tried to sit up grasping Scott's arm and squeezing it tight. Partly to get his attention and partly to ride out the pain as he attempted to move. "Don't go…"

Scott shook his head, frowning at the uncharacteristic vulnerability. "We're not going anywhere, Virg," he forced through his lips, despite the way his heart fluttered at seeing his brother in such a weak, confused condition. Scott's attempt was comforting but it only frustrated Virgil further that neither of his brothers understood what he was trying to say.

Taking a deep breath, Virgil held it in the hope that it would ease the spasming in his chest. He rode out the fiery pain for as long as he could, before letting the breath back out in a controlled push through pursed lips. Taking a few unsteady breaths, he managed to start a rhythm going where he could control his breathing.

"No," he managed to say, still breathless but no longer wheezing. He squeezed Scott's forearm again, where he'd grasped it earlier. "Don't go," he breathed. He glanced across at a blurry blond figure behind Scott and hoped that it was Alan, meaning his youngest brother hadn't already rushed off. "Got to get out…" he began to gasp for breath again, anxious at the thought of what he was about to say, "bomb."

Scott's frown deepened causing craters to form where lines of worry had once appeared, and he leaned closer, "Bomb? Virgil, what 'bomb'? There's a bomb here?"

Virgil just nodded, devoid of all energy to speak but it was unnecessary. The alarm in his eyes told Scott more than words ever could.

"Damn it!" Scott cursed, looking up to his other brothers and glancing between Alan and Gordon. "We've got to get out of here." His tone was urgent and he was already taking Virgil's arm to wrap around his shoulder as he spoke, "Now!"

Virgil felt himself being lifted, his arm being pulled until it was draped around Scott's shoulders. There were more hands on his waist as Gordon and Alan helped him to stand, he resisted yielding to the pain coursing through his body and bit his lip when Scott's hand snaked round his waist to hold him up, rubbing against bruised skin. His knees buckled, too weak to handle his weight at first but Scott's grip increased in order to hold him. He cursed himself as he heard a grunt escape his lips, his head buried in his brother's shoulder against the agonising pain.

"Easy!" Scott tensed with the extra weight, "Alan, help me out here," he strained. Alan did his part, supporting Virgil as best he could until Scott got a better grip. "You alright there, Virg?" Scott asked, hoping to get Virgil's attention away from his shirt. He lowered his head so he could see Virgil's eyes and began to take a few steps forward but Virgil didn't budge.

Virgil turned back, searching the dark room until he caught sight of his new friend, unmoving on the floor. He defied every muscle in his neck to lift his head and face his older brother, meeting Scott's gaze in the knowledge that his brother wouldn't like what he was about to ask. "Scott, take him with us," he swallowed against the shudders in his chest, his lungs still adjusting to being able to breathe again.

Scott's eyes widened. He lowered his voice to match Virgil's tone and looked deep into his eyes. "What?" Scott was shocked into disbelief, "Virgil…" he shook his head, letting out a sigh that caused Virgil's grimy hair to sway.

"He saved…" Virgil stopped to take a breath again. "He saved my life, I promised him I'd…promised I'd take care of him." Scott tried to take a step towards the exit but Virgil resisted being pulled away. Scott was surprised that even in his weakened state he still had the will to stand his ground. Virgil met his gaze again, putting everything into conveying how much he needed Scott to do this for him, "Please," he lowered his tone, not wanting his younger brothers to hear him, and blinked in order to keep Scott's face in focus, "please, Scott. Don't make me beg." He didn't move until Scott gave a quick nod of the head.

Scott twisted back to see Alan was already checking on the man sprawled out on the floor, "Is he alive, Alan?" Alan gave a brief nod but didn't look too hopeful as he glanced at the pool of blood staining the wood. Scott followed his gaze but came to a decision, "We can't just leave him here. You two bring him, I'll take Virgil," he ordered. "Make it quick!" he added. Softening his tone, he placed his head alongside Virgil's, "You okay? Can you walk?"

"Scott!" Alan hissed, "We can't move him, he's being tracked and we don't know how sensitive their trackers are!"

Scott cursed himself for allowing his concern for Virgil to overtake his ability to consider every aspect of the situation. He raced to think of a solution that would satisfy Virgil and, at the same time, not look suspicious to anyone tracking Luke. He thought he heard Virgil express his surprise but by the time his brother's quiet voice floated up to his eardrums it was too faint to make out the words. "Alan!" a thought suddenly occurred, "Brains said that these trackers worked on a similar system to ours so presumably they have the same anti-dote."

"Yes," Gordon nodded. "Brains did say that but we don't have any…" he trailed off as Scott delved into the pocket of Parker's coat and withdrew the syringe he'd placed there earlier.

"Take it! It's dissolver," Scott explained, struggling to juggle Virgil's weight and the swaying movements with keeping the two of them on their feet. "I thought I might need it earlier, when we thought it was Virgil at the airport."

Alan gave a small smirk of admiration at Scott's foresight and set about the task. Virgil was fast becoming even more confused at the conversation but had neither the time nor energy to questions his brothers. Instead, he concentrated on keeping his eyes open and using Scott's sturdy frame to keep himself upright. He knew he just needed to hold on a bit longer now, just a few more minutes and he could let the darkness envelope him but until then he had to fight it. Just like he'd been fighting it for the infinite amount of time that had passed since the very first blow.

Scott meanwhile, turned back to the brother still hanging off his shoulder. "Okay," he blew out a breath of air, letting out some of the stress. "Can you walk?" he asked again.

Virgil's answer came in a shaky step forward as he leaned on Scott and they made their way to the door, "Thank you," he muttered as Scott checked that Alan and Gordon were behind them, carrying Luke between them.

"Don't thank me," Scott replied through gritted teeth, struggling under the exertion of supporting Virgil's weight. "You're the one explaining it to Dad."

Feeling Scott pick up the pace in his hurry to get out, Virgil bit down against the pain any movement, let alone this quick, was causing. By the time they reached the end of the corridor, Scott was practically dragging Virgil along and his head hung from his neck, limp and swaying with every movement as if his neck muscles had just given up.

The daylight hurt Virgil's eyes as they made it outside and he squeezed them shut against the pain it caused deep in his head. He wanted to turn round to check on his brothers and Luke but he couldn't move, he just didn't have the energy anymore and though the will was there, his muscles weren't responding to willpower anymore.

When Scott had put what he felt was a safe distance between themselves and the building he lowered Virgil to the ground, dropping to his hands and knees alongside him and panting to get his own breath back. As Virgil opened his eyes again, he recognised the familiar greens and concluded that Scott had taken shelter underneath Thunderbird Two's nose.

There was the sound of rushed footsteps approaching, then more panting as Luke was lowered to the ground and Alan and Gordon took a few moments to recover, "Jeez, Scott," Alan gasped, "did you have to come this far?"

"If I know the Secret Service, that bomb'll be big enough to take that whole building with it," Scott replied, swallowing in an effort to lubricate his dry throat and rubbing a hand over his face. He sat alongside Virgil, looking down at his brother and unable to stop himself staring at the damage to Virgil's wrists and chest. "You okay?" Scott wasn't sure he wanted an answer to that question, really, but it slipped out without much thought. "Not much longer now," he reached down to squeeze Virgil's hand in reassurance but stopped himself when the sight of Virgil's bandaged wrists made his nose crinkle in disgust.

Virgil didn't have the heart to tell Scott how much pain he was in or how bad he felt. He was just content in the knowledge that his brothers had arrived in time to save him and that his ordeal had come to an end. Almost.

"'M'Okay," he nodded even though his vision was blurry and unfocused. Making the mistake of blinking, he then struggled to open his eyes again. It was obvious he was going to pass out soon but he was determined that he'd at least make it into the sick bay first.

"Hmm," Alan grunted, turning to scowl at the building behind them, "that was a waste of energy," he shook his head, "so much for a…." he was cut off by a loud explosion as the building erupted into a fireball that licked the heavens.

Virgil jumped at the loud bang, startled, and instinctively Scott covered him with his own body, holding him close. They were far enough away not to be pelted with debris but pieces of wood from the barricaded windows fell to the ground a few metres away. There was a second explosion as the fireball claimed Scott's borrowed vehicle and Foster's truck. When Scott sat back, he turned to see Alan and Gordon in a similar pose, sheltering Luke's body. Alan too, sat back and stared at the remains of the building. The bricks had crumbled and the flames of the fire still reached high up into the sky. It looked more like an earthquake had struck than a bomb. Raising an eyebrow, Alan sat himself up on his elbows, "….bomb," he finished his earlier statement, still in awe of the damage.

"Yeah, and that was some bomb," Gordon was wide eyed.

"Alright," drawing his concerned gaze way from Virgil's drooping eyelids, Scott decided he'd seen enough. He gripped Virgil's elbows, pulling his brother to his feet and wrapping strong arms round him in order to support him. He knew it was essential that Virgil got medical treatment and soon. His brother wasn't half as 'okay' as he'd have had them believe – anyone could see that. The movement spurred Virgil into opening his eyes. He didn't want his brothers to know how weak and unsteady he felt, not yet. "Let's get inside. Al, get the door."

Obeying, Alan stood up and walked over to the concealed controls, operating the door that would lead them straight into the pod. The internal lights flickered on, bathing the interior with a warm glow and Gordon and Alan struggled, working together to manoeuvre Luke's limp body through the one-man door. Scott watched them as they disappeared inside the pod before following with Virgil, increasingly worried about his brother's lack of exchange and the way Virgil seemed so flaccid against him.

As Scott turned to close the door, he left Virgil leaning against the side of the pod. A brief respite to regain some vital energy but it was taking all Virgil's power to stay standing. His legs shook and the metal was cold against his clammy skin. He found himself looking around, desperate for something to focus on in order to keep his eyes from drooping any further. His blurry vision, obscured by heavy eyelids, rested on the Mole. It sat in the centre of the pod, charred from the explosion at the research centre, a little askew on its undercarriage. He felt a shudder run through him, half expecting one of his captors to appear.

Scott returned and began to wind his arm round Virgil's waist again but the younger man flinched away with such force that he nearly collapsed. Scott caught him, frowning at the jittery behaviour, until he realised the focus of his brother's gaze. "It's okay," he whispered in encouragement, not sure what else to say or do, as Virgil sagged against him. He couldn't be sure, at this time, why his brother needed the reassurance but he was more than willing to oblige in providing it, if it helped Virgil in any way.

Sensing that Virgil was approaching his pain threshold, both emotionally and physically, and also allowing him to salvage some pride, Scott called out ahead of them to where Gordon and Alan were waiting at the lift. "Go up ahead of us," he ordered. Virgil began to slip from his grip and he was encouraged to add, "And send a stretcher back down."

"No," Virgil was determined he wouldn't need it and took a step forward, still shaking but forcing Scott to move too. "I can make it." He couldn't see further than the end of his nose without taking at least fifteen minutes to focus his vision and he felt weak, so weak that his legs didn't feel his own. Not to mention the fact that every time he blinked, what seemed like a few seconds to him was actually a lot longer in the real world.

"Virg…" Scott was unsure, he didn't like the way Virgil's knees kept buckling or the frequency with which his eyelids were drooping, lower and lower. One look at his brother though, a real look, and he could see how important it was to Virgil that he did this himself.

"I've been humiliated enough, Scott," Virgil's reply was small but his eyes were determined, even if they were also a little unfocused. "Let me do this," there was an element of exhaustion in his tone and Scott didn't have the heart to deny the request.

He hesitated and then turned back to Alan as the lift arrived, "Scrap that, we'll manage. Go check him out, we'll be up in a minute," he lowered his head, directing them to take Luke.

Alan and Gordon both nodded their assent and moved Luke into the lift, disappearing from sight but not without a few concerned glances in Scott's direction. Scott was grateful for the few minutes alone with Virgil as they took the first few faltering steps across the pod floor, slow but steady.

Virgil stumbled allowing a painful grunt to sneak passed his tightly sealed lips. His limbs no longer obeyed him and it was only thanks to Scott that he didn't fall. Half embarrassed, half defeated Virgil allowed Scott to take his weight for a few minutes, holding him upright. Pain reared its ugly head once more and Virgil gripped the shirt on Scott's back, taking fistfuls at a time in order to ride out the agony and humiliation of this feeling of frailty. As Scott began to respond to the semi-embrace, Virgil felt the protection and shelter of a hold he never thought he'd experience again and closed his eyes, fighting against the onslaught of emotions that were congealing in his chest. Clinging to Scott as if his life depended on it, he pulled his brother closer, burying his own head into Scott's strong shoulders and trying to block out the rest of the world.

Scott frowned harder, a little in surprise at the sudden closeness, a little in discomfort as Virgil's grip became so hard that it dug through his shirt and into his back. He returned the hold but when he felt Virgil tremble and shudder against him, he lowered his mouth to his brother's ear. "Hey, are you okay?" he asked, concerned that now they were alone, the true toll of Virgil's experience was beginning to show.

"I'll be alright," Virgil mumbled, between muffled moans of pain and unsystematic shuddering. "Just give me a minute, huh?"

"It's okay," Scott whispered, his concern growing by the second, "it's over now." For a long few moments, the supportive hold was more than just a steadying influence on Virgil's battered body, it conveyed a relief that they'd made it and a strong faith that in the safety of their family, everything would be all right now. Virgil tried with desperate accuracy to burn the moment into his memory; the feeling of safety and security, the smell of Scott's aftershave mingled with the smoke that clung to his uniform and the sounds of his older brother's steady breathing against his own haggard attempts.

Scott was prepared to give Virgil some time and just held him close, as tightly as he dared, waiting for the younger man to withdraw first. Sure enough, after a few more seconds, Virgil took two or three deep breaths and let them out slowly, before extracting himself from Scott's arms. "I'm okay," he muttered, trying more to convince himself than Scott, "I'm okay."

Scott waited for Virgil to look at him, his concern reaching new heights as he realised just how pale his brother's features were in the cold, harsh, artificial light of the pod. "You're going to be fine," he assured Virgil, trying to hide his own distress at his brother's alarming conduct. His attention was drawn by the red edges around Virgil's eyes and he found himself adding, "You're safe now, I promise."

Virgil nodded his understanding and then swallowed hard, "I'm sorry," he shook his head when Scott only smiled back at him, untainted relief sparkling in his eyes.

"Come on," Scott moved his arm so as instead of being face to face, they now stood side by side. "Let's get you checked out," he took a step forward, forcing Virgil to move too, and began rubbing the top of his arm in a small gesture of reassurance.

The truth was that Virgil's injuries were frightening in themselves but his behaviour was terrifying. The man that Scott was guiding towards the sick bay with words of support and a comforting arm was weak, exhausted and afraid. Not the man Scott recognised as his brother and certainly not the man that had left Tracy Island bound for Wales behind the controls of his precious Thunderbird. Virgil was frail, about as far removed as possible from the strong, brave, resilient brother Scott knew. That sudden change in his demeanour, Scott realised, was more frightening than the vast array of obvious injuries and he prayed to God that Virgil would snap out of it. Soon.

"Okay, it's just me and you now," Scott kept his tone soft as they continued the short journey, "how bad is it?"

Virgil sniffed and tried not to laugh, he should've known better than to think he could fool Scott. If felt good that there was no longer any pretence, no longer any need to look over his shoulder all the time; he could speak freely, honestly, and not have to worry about what he was saying. "Bad," he muttered, not even trying to hide it. "Can't keep my eyes open much longer, took a hit to the head and I think I've cracked a few ribs or something," he winced at the thought; ribs were always the worst. "I'm so thirsty," he swallowed, grimacing at his dry throat, "my chest's tight too, can't breathe properly," he tried to take a deep breath, wheezing and shuddering as if to prove the point.

"Okay, take it easy," Scott knew what he was saying and was beginning to regret allowing his brother to walk. He watched Virgil carefully, lending more help where he could as they made their way.

As they reached the lift and the doors opened, Scott was relieved to see a bottle of water on the floor. As he pulled Virgil inside, he picked up the bottle and uncapped it. Ever thankful for his Alan and Gordon's foresight, a smile graced his features for a few seconds.

"Here," he turned to Virgil as he set the carriage moving, "drink some of this."

Virgil held his hands out for the bottle, his eyes sparkling in relief and longing to feel the cool sensation against his dry, raspy throat. His hands shook as he took the bottle from his brother and any attempt to guide it to his mouth became futile. He felt a mix of relief and embarrassment as Scott placed his own hands around Virgil's and steered the bottle towards Virgil's lips.

Scott watched, swallowing back his repulsion at his brother's condition and trying hard to ignore the way his heart tensed at this desperation Virgil seemed to be riddled with.

"Take it easy, Virg," he said softly, trying to pull the bottle away. Virgil grimaced as the cool sensation was withdrawn and tried to override Scott's hold on the bottle to bring it back up to his lips but he was too weak. Scott's tight hold remained as he raised the bottle again in a controlled motion, encouraging his brother to take moderate sips.

It seemed to take forever to reach the sick bay, and as they approached Scott could already hear Alan's voice.

"I don't see why," the youngest brother could be heard to say, "for all we know, he's the reason Virgil's in such a state! He doesn't deserve our help."

"Al, you saw how Virgil reacted," Gordon was replying, trying to calm Alan and at the same time, the situation, "and you saw the way we found them; he was trying to protect Virgil."

Scott could only just make the conversation out and hoped that Virgil was too engrossed in concentrating on walking, to be taking any notice; the younger man certainly didn't seem to be reacting in any way. When they finally arrived, the place was already a buzz of activity, with Alan and Gordon assessing Luke's condition. They had the grace to cease their conversation in Virgil's presence.

As soon as they stepped inside, Virgil brushed Scott off with sudden and newfound strength. "Luke…" his voice was barely a whisper as he tried to pull away from Scott, in order to step closer to his friend.

"Virgil…" Scott tried to steer him towards the nearest free bed but his younger brother just shrugged him off, in favour of heading straight over to Luke's bedside. "Virgil," Scott took a firmer grip, "Come on, we need to look you over."

"I'm fine," Virgil muttered, coming to stand by where Alan and Gordon worked feverously. "Leave me alone, Scott," he dismissed his elder brother's support, looking up to Gordon and Alan, who were exchanging technical jargon. "How is he?"

Gordon and Alan exchanged glances before Gordon stopped in his work to explain. Virgil stared down at his unconscious friend, only half listening to his aquanaut brother. "He's been shot, it's not looking good. We're trying to control the bleeding but it's too much; I think the bullet must've nicked something major, there's no exit wound. I'm sorry, Virgil… his chances aren't good. We're doing our best, but…" he promised, watching Virgil take the few remaining steps to be right at the bedside. Gordon was taken aback by Virgil's traumatised expression and looked across his brother's shoulders to Scott for some back-up.

"Virg…" Scott began, stepping forward to place a hand on his brother's back.

"No, he has to make it; he saved me…helped me...," Virgil pushed his older brother away again. "He's the only reason I'm alive, he can't die! Luke?" he placed a hand on Luke's shoulder, hoping to rouse him. "Has he regained consciousness?" he turned to Alan who shook his head with a great deal of reluctance. "Not at all?"

"Virgil," Gordon stepped forward, "you're hurt; let Scott look you over, we'll take good care of Luke, I promise." He looked to Scott, concern and distress contained in his eyes at the sight unfolding as Virgil began to disintegrate in front of him.

"Luke?" Virgil ignored him to give Luke's shoulder a firmer shake. "Wake up."

Scott looked away, unable to watch his brother in such a desperate, heart wrenching plea. He swallowed back his own distress as he felt the pressure build in the form of Alan's and Gordon's glares, both of them shaken and stunned at Virgil's desolation.

"Virgil, please," Scott found his voice and stepped forward, taking Virgil by the shoulders. "You need help…"

"He needs help!" Virgil retorted, gesturing to where Luke was laid with an angry, painful, shake of the head.

"And he's getting it, Virgil," Alan did his part. "You know you're not helping him right now so why don't you go with…"

He was cut off as Luke moved his head on the pillow and then let out a gentle sigh.

"Luke?" Virgil was at his side, Scott's anxious exchange with Gordon and Alan passing high above his head. "Hey," Virgil smiled down, grimacing when the action pulled on abused muscles. Luke forced his eyes open. "You're going to be okay," Virgil leaned closer, watching Luke screw his face up in pain and struggle to focus his bleary vision. "He's going to be okay," he smiled up at Scott, who was looking less than hopeful, "he has to be." The three remaining brothers traded disturbed expressions at the blind faith Virgil exuded in that statement.

"B-Ben?" Luke swivelled his head in the direction of Virgil's voice. "You're here," Luke's pale face lit up in delight but Virgil's joy at seeing Luke awake turned to despondency, the expression dropping from his face like snow melting from rooftops in the heat of the sun.

He hesitated, his bottom lip trembling, "No," he swallowed back his grief. "It's me, it's Virgil," he tried to comfort his friend. Luke moved his hand to one side of the bed covers, palm up, and Virgil accepted the gesture, taking it in his own and running a thumb over his knuckle. "It's okay, now," he soothed, fighting hard against his trembling chest.

Scott watched the interaction, taking in every movement with a bizarre mixture of surprise, apprehension and unease. Feeling his younger brothers' increasing discomfort at witnessing the intimate moment, he swallowed and attempted to step forward. He couldn't bring himself to move though.

"Lisa…." Luke heaved, forcing Virgil to lean closer in order to hear and further stretching his battered chest. "I love her…"

"I know you do," Virgil nodded, gulping against the tears that he could feel burning in his eyes.

"Tell h… her," Luke's eyes closed of their own accord.

"You can tell her yourself," Virgil tried to smile in assurance. "Just hold on a bit longer, Luke. It won't be long now, I promise," he squeezed his friend's hand with gentle reassuring pressure. "We've come so far, you can't just give up," he pleaded, "not now. We're so close." Luke didn't open his eyes again and Virgil began to shake his arm, "Luke? Luke, wake up!"

"Hmm," Luke managed to open his eyes but let them slip shut again, unable to keep them open. "You're a good man, Virgil."

"That sounds like goodbye. Don't give up," Virgil shook his head and felt a knot form in his stomach, rising quickly to the back of his throat. "We're over the worst of it now, it's almost over. Luke…" he tried to control the emotion that was causing him to shake, "please… please don't give up," he begged.

Virgil took a few moments to gather himself whilst Luke smiled contentedly and allowed his eyes to close fully.

Luke mumbled something, blissful confusion reigning. Virgil bit his lips together, fighting tears that were already brimming in his eyes but couldn't find his voice to speak. In those few moments, he could see no-one else in the room but the man laid before him. He settled for just returning the pressure against his hand, only for Luke's grip to slacken. "Luke?" Virgil asked, fear beginning to rise within him. "Luke?" his voice rose, as did the panic contained within it. "Luke, wake up! Wake up!" he began shaking his friend's shoulders in a frenzied, frantic attempt to revive him. Alarms began to sound and Alan and Gordon took a simultaneous step forward.

"Pressure's dropping…" Gordon reported, "… oh God."

The alarms continued to wail, driving the two younger brothers into action but Virgil remained close to Luke. "No," he shook his head, emphatically ignoring the tears that were beginning to wander down his cheeks. "No, he can't, this can't be happening! It can't!"

Scott stepped forward, feeling now was an appropriate time to pull Virgil away, "Come on, Virgil, come away," he urged.

"No!" Virgil tried to push Scott's arms away. "Don't do this, Luke!" he shuddered as he felt Scott's strong arms embrace him from behind, pulling him from the scene. "Please, no," he muttered, only semi-resisting as Scott pulled him back.

"Let them work, Virgil," Scott said in a soft reassuring tone. "Give them some space."

"No," Virgil shook his head, watching in horror as Gordon began pounding on Luke's chest with brutal power. "We've got to do something, Scott," he heard himself say, turning to look straight into his elder brother's eyes. "Help him… please…" he beseeched his only older brother with a helplessness Scott hadn't seen in him for many years. "He saved me! He saved my life, Scott … do something!" he begged with absolute faith that his big brother could right all the wrongs.

Hearing the shrill sound of the defibrillator powering up, Scott wound an arm around Virgil's shoulders, holding him firmly and leading him away from the scene. "They're doing everything they can, Virgil," Scott assured him in a positive tone, "Come on, you don't need to see this."

In a state of shock and feeling a sudden lack of any sensation, Virgil could do nothing but allow Scott to lead him across to the opposing bed. "I…I ….I promised him," Virgil found himself saying, nausea rising despite the fact there was nothing left to come up. "I promised that he'd… I promised…"

"Shh," Scott tried to calm him down, noting the sudden change in ferocity of Virgil's breathing. "Sit down," he pushed Virgil gently against the free bed and the younger brother took a seat, feeling numb and disconnected from what was happening. "Second thoughts, I think you should lie down," Scott instructed, moving the pillows on the bed.

"He can't die, Scott," Virgil replied in a daze, not complying with Scott's order, probably not even hearing it. "He can't," he dropped his head, feeling his body shake as he finally let the tears fall without restriction and his shoulders heaved. He rocked forward until his head leant against Scott's chest. "If it hadn't been for him, I'd be dead. He's the only … the only reason I'm still here. It should have been me," he cried. "It should have been me," he repeated as he rocked.

Not sure how to respond to Virgil's apparent emotional collapse, Scott placed a hand on his brother's back, rubbing the nape of his neck hoping to provide some small comfort. "Don't say that," he said, letting his own head drop, burying his face in his brother's thick, smoky hair. "Don't ever say that." He closed his eyes against the continuous discharge of the defibrillator in the background and the subsequent tremors that, like an earthquake, ran through Virgil's whole body every time the machine released a charge.

"The bullet was meant for me," Virgil told his eldest brother, looking up at him and causing Scott's arm to fall back to his side. "I… I promised him I'd take care of him. I let him down."

"You let no-one down," Scott's tone was adamant, "you hear me?" he forced his eyes to become clearer, blinking back the effect that seeing Virgil so distraught was having on him. "Now, I promised Dad I'd make sure you were okay, so I need you to lie back and let us take care of you."

"But Luke…" Virgil protested.

"Is being looked after," Scott placed a firm pressure on his shoulder, encouraging him to lie back on the bed. Virgil resisted at first, turning to look across at where Luke was being treated. "Don't put yourself through this, Virgil. You've been through enough already," Scott murmured, increasing the pressure he was placing on Virgil's shoulder. Finally, exhaustion and despair merged to form compliance and Virgil allowed Scott to aid him in lying down.

Seeing Scott's success in checking Virgil out, Alan looked up from where he and Gordon were tending to Luke, moving to pull the partition across and hiding their work from Scott and Virgil. To Scott, the action spoke volumes; it told him everything he needed to know without saying a word.

Virgil tried to twist his head so as he could see Gordon and Alan but Scott stepped in the way on purpose, obscuring his view and attaching leads to Virgil's chest. His eyes flickered to the observation screen as it came to life and the leads began feeding back the data they were collecting. "How's the breathing feel?"

"Bit rough, hard going at times," Virgil was distracted, his eyes still wandered to the curtain behind which his two younger brothers worked, "got a lung full of smoke though." He felt Scott's hand grasp his forearm, in an attempt to get his attention. When that failed, Scott reached down to Virgil's head and encouraged his brother to look at him

"Concentrate on looking after yourself." Placing an oxygen mask across his brother's nose and mouth, Scott began fiddling to set the rate, "Here, this'll help you breathe easier."

Virgil moved his hand up and pulled the mask off, he waited for Scott to replace it but instead the action had earned him a glare of disapproval from Alan as the young blond materialised beside Virgil's bed, "You need to keep it on, Virg." Any other time, Alan would have delighted in telling his older brother what to do but right now, the constant frown of apprehension was a big indication that he was too concerned with Virgil's health to revel in the role reversal.

Scott eyed Alan's sudden appearance with a sinking feeling in his gut; if Gordon could spare an extra pair of hands, Luke's prognosis couldn't be good.

Virgil abandoned his struggle to remove the mask again when Scott held his forearm down before he'd even moved. He knew he was wasting vital energy in fighting his brothers. Energy that he needed to continue his hold on the thin thread that remained between him and dark blissful unconsciousness. "How is he?" he asked, trying to catch Alan's gaze and causing the mask to fog. "Tell me he's alive," Virgil pleaded. There was an ominous pause.

Alan avoided answering the question, too unnerved by Virgil's desperate loyalty to Luke, and caught Scott's gaze for a few seconds, indicating that there wasn't much they could do for Virgil's new friend. Virgil's constant concern, however, told Scott that his closest brother wasn't ready to hear that just yet.

"He's in good hands, Virg," as if to confuse Virgil more, the reply came from Scott, before Alan had a chance to answer. Digesting the words seemed to take forever in Virgil's confused mind and Alan took the opportunity to tilt his brother's head back with firm hands and check his pupil responses. Virgil flinched at the bright lights; turning away and groaning as white spots appeared in his vision and everything blurred. Before he'd managed to correct his eyesight, his little brother had taken him by surprise, pinning him down and flashing the light in his eyes for a second time. Virgil had neither the vitality nor the enthusiasm to resist any more.

"Did you hit your head, Virgil?" Alan was asking, "Were you knocked out?"

Virgil struggled to open his eyes after being blinded by the bright light but could hear his youngest brother's voice calling to him and turned towards it. "Tell me," he continued, not prepared to surrender to his brothers' assessment or the darkness that was clawing at the edges of his consciousness, until he was satisfied that he'd kept his promise.

Above him, Scott's and Alan's eyes met, conveying a deep sense of unease at the state of their brother. "He said earlier that he hit his head," Scott provided, "he thought he might have cracked a few ribs and that he was thirsty, I think he's been bleeding pretty heavily." Alan followed Scott's eyes to the reddened bandages covering Virgil's wrists and neck.

"Yeah, that'd explain a few things," Alan nodded to the screen showing Virgil's vital signs but made no effort to vocalise the specifics. He knew Virgil had the same training he did and didn't want to alarm or panic his brother further then Virgil already was. Scott glanced up to the flashing figures on the screen, realising what his youngest brother was insinuating. He moved to take Virgil's feet, removing his boots and tossing them aside, then raising his legs onto a folded blanket.

"Talk to us, Virg," Scott called out, "how are you feeling?"

"Cold," Virgil shuddered, trying to flex his fingers and toes where he felt it the most.

Scott suddenly appeared alongside him, a hand in his hair as he leant down to Virgil's face. "What was that?" he asked, straining to hear through the muffling of the oxygen mask.

"Cold," Virgil repeated. Trying to speak a little louder only succeeded resulting in pain and even more difficulty in taking successful breaths. He began to cough with such vigour that his body convulsed, lifting his head and shoulders off the mattress.

"Easy," Scott placed a firm hand on his shoulders, holding him down and increasing the flow of oxygen through the mask. "Try to relax," Scott was advising as he moved his hands to either side of Virgil's head, holding him steady. Virgil hated the feeling of being held down and tried to shrug his brother off, but Scott held firm, "Just try to keep still. You keep moving your head around like that and you're just going to make that neck wound even worse." Scott looked up to Alan, "Get him a blanket, Al, he's cold," he ordered. "We need to stop him from moving, pass me a cervical collar up here too, will you?"

Virgil knew what that meant and liked the idea of the restricting plastic even less than Scott's firm hold on his head. Out of instinct he tried to shake his head but he couldn't, "Scott, no," he breathed, "I'll stay still," he stopped for another breath, "promise."

Scott relented as Alan passed him the bright orange plastic contraption, "Okay, but it stays here," he put it to one side, leaving Virgil with the unspoken understanding that it wasn't out of the question yet. He leaned further over Virgil, so as they were eye to eye. Virgil's confusion grew when his brother appeared above him, apparently upside down and he knitted his brow together, moving his head in an effort to correct the anomaly. "Stay still, remember?" Scott's grip firmed up around his head and Virgil screwed his face up, uncomfortable at the constraint. "Virgil, look at me," Scott could see his attention was fading, "do you know how long these wounds have been bleeding?" he tried to keep his brother talking.

Virgil breathed out, blinking heavily again as he tried to comprehend what Scott was asking him. "Lots…" he tried to clear his throat, "lots of blood," he managed to wheeze out. "Kept bleeding, Luke tried to stop it…" his eyes were opening and closing now and there was nothing he could do to stop it. He could feel Alan's warm hands on his arm, it was almost therapeutic. He let his eyelids block out the bright lights of Two's sickbay. "Tell me he's alive, please, I need to know."

"Virgil, I need you to make a fist with your left hand," Alan's voice filtered through to his brain but he couldn't face opening his eyes and just acquiesced to the request by moving his fingers. He groaned as pain shot up his arm and the throbbing beneath the bandages on his wrists turned into a burning sensation, pulling at the skin. "No, Virgil, your left hand," the concern in Alan's voice was overpowering as he rubbed on the correct limb, "that's this one." Virgil frowned and relaxed his grip, tensing the other hand instead and causing a similar burning sensation under the bandages there. "That's great," Alan tapped on the correct forearm where Virgil could already feel the cooling sensation of the alcohol solution. Above the patient Scott was on the receiving end of Alan's apprehension as they both registered the struggle Virgil was encountering with his coordination.

"Sharp scratch coming, Virg," Alan's words hadn't registered before he felt the sharp pressure against his arm. His senses were telling him that the needle must be at least three inches thick but in reality he knew it was only a mere fraction of that.

The exclamations and hurried conversation that followed were a confused blur for Virgil and he gave up trying to make sense of what was happening to him. As he felt cold hands brushing against his skin, he realised that someone was cutting away the remnants of his uniform with even colder scissors. Making the most of a moment's reprieve from the cold metal against his skin, he took in a breath, unprepared for the probing, cold hands that placed firm force against his bruised and swollen chest. The groan escaped his lips before he could stop it and though he attempted to roll away, it was no use. The pain only increased until the edges of his blurry vision became dark and sinister. "I'm sorry, Virg, I know it's sore, but we have to check you over," he heard a voice tell him, distorted to the point that he was unsure whether it was Scott or Alan.

In that moment, the pain caused him to lower his guard and everything he'd been fighting devoured him within seconds. No more pain. No more suffering. No more reality. Only darkness.

XxxxX

John's finger tapped against his desk in a hurried rhythm, it had been nearly twenty five minutes since Alan had called him and Scott still hadn't called in. He glanced at his watch, anxious for news on Virgil's condition and aggravated that no one had seen fit to contact him yet. He glanced at his watch, make that twenty six minutes.

"Thunder…."

"Scott, finally! How is he? Is he okay? Can I talk to him?" John's frown was deep and his barrage of questions spoke volumes of his concern. Scott's image appeared in front of him, sat in the pilot's chair of Thunderbird Two and his heart sunk to his boots at the sight, many of his questions already answered. "How bad is it?"

"It could've been worse," Scott swallowed. He understood John's urgency and cut straight to the chase. "He's lost a lot of blood, Alan and Gordon are trying to get his pressure back up but he's all over the place, John." Scott ran a hand over his pale, tired features and looked deep in to John's eyes, "They really did a number on him; he's a mess, I need you to get the coordinates of the nearest hospital."

John nodded, biting his bottom lip in an unconscious sign of how worried he was. "He won't make it back to Brains?" the more that was revealed, the more John's concern reached new heights.

"We can't risk it, he's not stable enough," Scott replied, flicking switches to power up Thunderbird Two as he spoke.

"Okay, Dad and I talked about this, he's arranged for a friend of Lady Penelope's to take care of Virgil," John turned away from the screen for a few seconds and then returned. "You need to land at the co-ordinates I've sent you, I'll have Penny meet you and she'll take care of things from there. Tell Gordon to take Thunderbird Two to Foxleyheath." There was never any question that Scott would stay.

"A friend of Penelope's?" Scott screwed his face up, aghast at the idea. "This isn't a little cut that needs a few stitches! He's got slash wounds on his neck and wrists, not to mention the beating he's taken or the head injury!" the anger Scott felt at the idea of his brother not getting the best treatment available came out of nowhere and was probably also an outlet for all his pent up frustrations and fears, "I'm taking him to a hospital. He needs a doctor, John!"

"She is a doctor!" John fired back. He knew Scott's rage wasn't directed at him but it felt that way on the receiving end of the tirade and he couldn't help but snap back; his older brother didn't have the monopoly on worrying. "Look, she's a good friend of Penelope's, we can trust her not to ask any questions and if you hurry up and do what I told you then she won't have a clue about any links to International Rescue. I already ran a check on her and she's clean." He stopped to gauge Scott's reaction and then let out a haggard sigh, "Look, Scott, I don't like the idea either but we don't have a choice. She's got the knowledge and she's got a state of the art private hospital at her disposal."

Scott looked away from the screen, rushing to think this through, "What do you mean 'at her disposal'?"

"She's about to open a private hospital for ex-military officers. The main practice is in York but the hospital is deep in the North York Moors for security and anonymity purposes," John shrugged and tried to impart on Scott that this was their only option. "It's ideal for Virgil. He doesn't have to be there any longer than absolutely necessary."

With a great deal of reluctance Scott brought up the coordinates and plotted them into the computer system, "Okay, tell Penelope we'll meet her there." He paused, hesitant to go on. "Oh, and one more thing," Scott stopped attending to various controls to look at his astronaut brother. John raised an eyebrow. "Virgil isn't the only casualty on board," Scott confessed. John was taken aback, he cocked his head to one side to stare at Scott in confusion. "We found Virgil with another guy. He was alive so we brought him too," Scott began explaining, "Virgil said he saved his life, made me promise that we'd look after him."

"Look after him?" John replied, his tone rising as he put all the pieces together. "Who? There was only… oh my god," realisation dawned, "not the other prisoner?" John's face fell. "Scott! He's responsible for all this! What are you thinking!"

"It's not like that!" Scott defended, bristling at the thought that John was questioning his judgement. "Look, I admit that I don't fully understand what's happened but I trust Virgil and he must have a damned good reason for asking me to do this. You didn't see him; I couldn't turn him down, John, he made me promise."

"Well, I trust Virgil too," John agreed, "but after what he's been through no one would blame him if his judgement was a little off-center." He shook his head, "You said yourself he had a head injury, he's confused!"

"No," Scott shook his head with vigour and turned back to his controls, "he was genuine, John. I know Virgil, he was sure about this, I could tell."

"Well, I hope so for your sake," John muttered. There was a silence between them as the news sunk in and a sigh ruffled through the airwaves, "Okay, I'll let Penelope know. Will he need medical attention?"

Scott felt the power build under his fingertips as his brother's craft came to life beneath him, "He's got a serious head injury and he's been shot. I'm not convinced he'll make it. Gordon's still trying to revive him now but it didn't look good. I think he'll be more in need of a mortuary than an emergency room."

"Okay, well, I'll let Penelope know," John made a note of the information. "Dad'll want to come to England ASAP if Virgil's being treated there. He's already sent Tin-Tin out to get Grandma. I think there's going to be trouble in paradise, if you get my meaning."

Scott winced, "Yeah, I get your meaning alright." Their Grandmother could wreak havoc when she wanted to and Scott was certain that this would be one of those times. She would not be happy that her grandson had been injured and she certainly wouldn't be happy that she couldn't be by his side immediately. "Do you want to tell Dad about Luke or shall I?" he concentrated for a few moments, unused to the heavier controls of Thunderbird Two as he lifted off from the crash site and banked so as they were heading in the right direction. The cockpit hummed around him.

"Let's not tell Dad for now," John suggested, "he's frantic enough about Virgil and the last thing he needs is more stress. Besides it's better to tell him when he reaches the hospital, that way, when he has a heart attack he's in the right place," John's tone dripped with sarcasm but Scott wasn't amused at all and scowled his disapproval at his brother's dark sense of humour.

"That's not funny," Scott berated, his tone sullen. "I'll head to those coordinates, you get in touch with Penny."

"FAB," John responded, he moved his hand to close the link but hesitated. "Look after him, Scott," he said, not giving Scott a chance to respond and flicking a switch to end the conversation.

Scott looked at the screen but he was too late, John had already cut the connection. "I will, Johnny," he muttered to himself, "I will."

Scott heaved a sigh, taking Two to her full speed, pushing the atomic engines for all they were worth. Thunderbird Two was a mighty craft, capable of outrunning any other commercial craft a fraction of its size but there had been plenty of times in the past when Scott wished she could have gone that little but faster. Never more so than now.

XxxxX

Gordon stood by Virgil's head, a bag of clear fluid in his hand. "I still think I should've flown us, I'm Virgil's co-pilot," he was grumbling as he squeezed the liquid down tubing and into Virgil's arm.

"Scott was right, Gords," Alan replied, applying gentle pressure to Virgil's ribs as he made his way down one side of his brother's body before covering him again with several blankets, "he can get more speed out of her. Besides, it's done now." He slipped his hands under the other side of the blanket to feel Virgil's torso once more, glancing up for any kind of response every few seconds but there was none. "I think he may have cracked a couple of ribs on the left side, too. How's his breathing now?"

Gordon glanced at the screen and took out a stethoscope, "Still wheezy."

"At least he's not bleeding as much as he was, that's got to be a good sign," Alan muttered, as he held Virgil's eyes open to check his pupils again before mirroring Gordon's pose to face the screen, "His blood pressure's still on the ground, though." Alan paused, about to go on when he caught sight of movement in the corner of his eye. "Scott," he acknowledged as their pilot entered the medical bay.

"Are we here already?" Gordon sounded surprised and raised an eyebrow when Scott gave a quick nod to the affirmative, undecided whether the young aquanaut was being uncharacteristically sarcastic.

"How is he?" Scott asked, moving forward to the head of the bed where Virgil laid, resting a hand against the raised railings. "Any improvement? Is he still unconscious?"

Alan shrugged, unclipping various monitors and placing them on the bed around Virgil's body, ready to move. "He's been drifting in and out, his pressure's up a little but still far too low. I'm pretty sure he's cracked some ribs and I'm worried that he might have some internal bleeding, there's definite bruising around his kidneys and spleen."

Scott nodded, taking the information in his stride as he peered down at his unconscious brother. "Okay, Penelope should be meeting us here any minute. Then you guys need to take Two to Foxleyheath."

Gordon opened his mouth to speak, probably in protest, but was silenced as Virgil groaned and all attention turned to him. "Virg?" he asked, moving a little closer to his stricken brother. "Virgil, can you hear us?"

Virgil didn't open his eyes to begin with but made an unsteady effort to remove the mask on his face. He was stopped in his tracks by a firm hand and the restriction of what he knew would be the cervical collar Scott had threatened him with. He reverted to plan B, forcing his eyelids ajar. "Gordy?" he muttered, trying to focus on his younger brother's winning smile as Gordon slowly came in to focus, leaning over the bed to fall within Virgil's restricted sight.

"Hey," Gordon's smile widened, "just relax, we're at the hospital now, we're going to get you fixed up."

Virgil attempted to clear his throat and caught Gordon's gaze, "Luke?" he asked.

Gordon glanced across the bed to Scott and then placed a hand on Virgil's shoulder. "You're going to be just fine," he replied, blatantly avoiding the question. "Scott's here, we're going to leave you in his capable hands and then the doctor's going to fix you up." He repeated his earlier words, "Al and I will see you later, you'll be feeling better by then," he said with confidence.

"Hey," Scott came into Virgil's line of sight as Gordon gave a soft squeeze of his shoulder and then retreated. "So, you decided to grace us with your presence, huh?" he smiled as he reached down to move the bed away from the wall, not giving Virgil chance to ask after Luke again.

Virgil placed one hand over Scott's and then pulled the oxygen mask away with his other hand. The plastic around his neck offered him harsh opposition but he manipulated Scott's arm until he had a firm grip on his brother's hand. He then pulled Scott until he was in a position where Virgil could look up, deep into his eyes. "Luke's dead, isn't he?"

He wanted confirmation of what he already knew in his heart and it came when Scott clutched his hand, gentle but tight. "I'm so sorry, Virgil," he replied, a frown developing on his brow where he towered over the bed. "I know you wanted to help him but … he didn't make it."

Virgil began to shake his head but found himself unable, "Oh, God," he mumbled. Turning away from Scott's voice wasn't an option either so he squeezed his eyes shut as tight as he could, feeling the tears building behind his closed eyelids.

"We did everything we could," Scott went on hating himself for being the bearer of such distressing news, "but we couldn't get him back. There was nothing anyone could have done. He was too badly hurt."

The words faded until they were unrecognisable and Virgil screwed his eyes closed again, making a desperate bid to ignore the tears that were already making their way towards his pillow.

"Virgil?" Scott was at his side, his hand squeezing Virgil's in a gesture of support, "Virgil, say something…" he sighed.

But there were no words to express how Virgil was feeling in that moment. All the words in the English language couldn't do his despair justice.


	15. Chapter 15

_**In Too Deep – Chapter Fifteen**_

'_Good Morning, I'm Lindsay McKay and you're watching BBC International Breakfast News. The headlines: British Prime Minister, Jonathon Turner has stunned the nation this morning with the swift decision to call an Emergency Cabinet Meeting. No one knows quite what's behind Mr Turner's decision but there's plenty of speculation after the Home Secretary's shock resignation earlier in the week. We cross now, live to Downing Street where….'_

The screen flickered.

'… _earlier this morning when the Prime Minster made this statement: "I can not comment, at this time, on the nature of the issue we intend to discuss but I assure the British Public and the Press that a full statement will be made as soon as possible." Speculation of a cabinet reshuffle is rife after Helen Quartz's resignation and mixed reports that Transport Minister James Godfrey is to be appointed Foreign ….'_

Another flicker.

This time a shadow leaned against the doorpost of the room, legs crossed at the ankles and arms folded across his chest. Silently observing from his position and ignoring the constant flow of water from the small collection of fish tanks that lined one wall.

'…_the Prime Minster. At a press conference earlier this morning, he assured the public that…'_

"Morning," Alan forced himself to appear cheerful but he was ignored. The television continued to announce the day's International news through intermittent second-long gaps where Gordon persisted with his channel flicking. "Gordon?" Alan took a step into his brother's room this time, but was ignored yet again. His forced cheery demeanour was fading fast as Gordon remained unaware of his presence, "Gordy, would you cut that out?" he couldn't quite keep the annoyed tone from his voice but he tried; it wasn't worth the effort though, as the channel hopping continued as if he wasn't even there.

'…_. from Mr Turner, himself, after an influx of bad press for Parliament including…'_

'…_Emergency Parliamentary Powers could be invoked for the first time since…'_

"Gordy, I'm serious," Alan made no attempt to hide his annoyance this time. Eyeing the back of the chair in the centre of the room and the red spokes of hair that poked above it, he growled out another sigh and took another step, further inside the bedroom. "You're going to blow a fuse or something…" His words had no effect. In fact, they seemed only to increase Gordon's erratic button-pressing.

'…_our legal correspondent…'_

'_..Mr Turner…'_

'…_contingency…'_

'_Mr…'_

'…_Tur..'_

The screen flickered with a bright light, this time to be replaced with darkness. Frowning in confusion, Gordon tried to press the remote a few more times before turning to see his youngest brother, plug in hand. "Oh, Morning, Alan," he said sheepishly.

Alan let the plug drop to the floor and took a seat, helping himself to some coffee. "I thought you were going to blow a fuse," he scowled, repeating himself.

"Sorry," Gordon shrugged and his tone held an air of absence to it, "I guess I'm a little preoccupied."

Alan raised an eyebrow but sipped at his coffee. "Virgil's home today," he said unnecessarily. When Gordon made no effort to reply, he was silent for a few more minutes.

Eventually, he prepared himself to break the silence. "You get much sleep?" he asked, sitting back in his chair and letting the soft cushions ease his aching bones. One glance at Gordon answered that question in truth, but he wanted to hear it from the horse's mouth, so to speak.

Gordon shrugged for a second time, "A little. I called Dad earlier, I think Virgil was pretty cut up after the funeral yesterday. They stayed the night at Penelope's so they're not going to get home until this afternoon."

"Is Virg okay?" Alan peered at his brother, over the top of his coffee mug, with concerned eyes. "I mean… should he be up and about so soon?"

Finding it hard to hide his frustration at the situation, Gordon heaved a sigh, "I don't know, Dad said he was a real mess but it's nothing that won't heal with time." He rubbed a hand over his eyes, "I guess we'll see for ourselves in a few hours when he gets here."

"Yeah," Alan nodded, looking about the room. "Have you seen Scott this morning?"

Gordon pulled a vacant expression, "Only briefly but he's getting anal about how everything has to be ready for Virgil coming home. Between him and Grandma, I think the whole house is going to be spotless."

Alan laughed but took a few moments to study his aquanaut brother. "You okay, Gordy? You seem a bit… distant."

"Hmm?" Gordon forced a smile, "Sorry, I'm fine. I'm just tired, I didn't get much sleep."

Alan raised his eyebrows and glanced around the bedroom, looking to the mangled sheets on the bed; that much was obvious. "Nightmares?" Alan ventured.

Gordon shook his head, "No, not really. I just couldn't stop thinking… you know what it's like, about all the ifs and maybes." He knew Alan would be nodding beside him, they all knew what dealing with bad rescues entailed. "I made good use of my time though," Gordon went on to smile, his eyes showing a familiar sparkle that Alan was relieved to witness. "I did some more detailed scans of the damage to the Mole. It's worse then we thought."

"Yeah?" Alan helped himself to a cold slice of toast from the plate by Gordon's chair but screwed his face up after a single bite. "Brains will appreciate that," he said. "I know Tin-Tin's been struggling to get everything fixed up without him here to help her. She wanted to get the interior done first in case Virgil came home, she didn't want him to see… well, y'know." He bit his lips together, his thoughts straying to the pretty assistant engineer who'd comforted him time after time, over the last few days. "Still, I'm glad Brains is in England with Virgil; it's good to know he's on hand, just in case, especially with Virgil not being in the hospital all that long."

"Yeah," Gordon agreed. "I wish we could have stayed with him. I'm sure Scott does too. I don't think he's relaxed since we left England."

"And I don't think he will until Virgil's back here where Scott can keep an eye on him," Alan let out a sigh as he shook his head, partly in understanding. "If I'm honest I don't blame Scott for that. I can't say I won't feel better 'til I know Virgil's back home."

"Yeah, I know what you mean," Gordon replied in a mournful tone, "Virgil needs our support now more than ever and we're thousands of miles away." He paused, "I guess Scott's right, all we can do is make coming home as smooth as possible for him." He smiled and took a deep breath, trying to motivate himself, "I'm going to do some final checks to Thunderbird Two. I know Dad won't want him to go down there, but if I know Virgil, that isn't likely to stop him either."

Alan smirked, "Yeah, I'll go find Scott, see if there's anything I can do, I'm sure he's got a whole heap of things he could use a hand with."

They were about to make a collective effort to move when a steady but constant bleeping from the television set stopped them in their tracks. Gordon groaned and sat back in his seat, as Alan pressed the necessary buttons. "Go ahead, John." He fiddled with the plug for a while in order not to let the battery run down. A precaution that had proved a necessity during stormy weather.

"Good Morning," John smiled, looking fresh and alert, coffee in hand. "How are you guys?"

"We're fine," Gordon replied. "Have you got an update for us?"

John nodded and sat back in his chair, taking a relaxed sip from his coffee mug. "Dad called in a few minutes ago. He said they're about to leave so they should be with you in a few hours. And before you ask, yes, Virgil's fine. Dad said he's tired," John's tone lowered a little, "he also said to warn you guys that Virgil's not quite himself yet but that he's okay."

"Thanks, John," Alan smiled, genuinely pleased at John's thoughtfulness. His space-bound brother knew what it was like to have no concrete news when you were worried. "It's a relief to know that he's on his way home, at least. Where he belongs."

"Have you spoken to Scott today?" Gordon asked, a frown of concern playing on his features. "I saw him earlier and he seemed really uptight. He's running about the place like some kind of Commander in Chief."

"Yeah, I spoke with him." John admitted, with reluctance. "I know he's a little busy at the moment, but just …. Just do what he says, huh?" John was almost pleading with his younger brothers. "He's had it tough and it's his way of dealing with things. He wants everything to be right for Virgil and you know what he's like, he has to be doing something."

"A little busy?" Gordon guffawed, "John, he's been conspiring with Grandma!" he exclaimed. "He has a clipboard, for crying out loud!" Alan smirked at John's cleverly concealed wince when Gordon's voice rose.

John heaved a sigh that echoed through the speakers, "He's just trying to keep busy, he'll be okay. He's been under a lot of stress, we all have, and he's worried about Virgil. I don't think Virgil's spoken to him since he left England."

This was news to Gordon and Alan, "He hasn't?" Gordon frowned, looking at Alan in surprise before turning to John again. "But Scott's been calling England constantly."

"Yeah, well that doesn't mean he got a reply. Dad said Virgil's barely spoken a word." John raised one eyebrow. "To anyone. Including Scott. I don't know what's going on, but I don't think everything in that garden is rosy. So go easy on Scott. He's probably upset that Virgil hasn't returned any of his calls. Just keep the peace and go along with whatever he says. Things will get better once Virgil gets back to the island and everything settles down." He paused and looked between his two younger brothers with a purposeful gaze. "Now, in the meantime, we need to talk…."

XxxxX

Flying miles above the constraints of the real world, it was customary for Jeff Tracy to get that weightless feeling of contentment, that all his worries were at least a couple of hundred thousand feet away. The freedom that he could just keep flying away from his responsibilities was never far away. Even though in reality he would never do it, the fact that he could was exhilarating. Today, however, there was no weightless feeling of contentment and the cause of his worries wasn't hundreds of thousand of feet away; it was sat right next to him in the form of his second eldest son. As his concentration wandered from the controls, he looked across to Virgil. The humming of the engines, muffled though they were by the state of the art soundproofing, was the only sound in the cockpit to greet Jeff's ears. Yet, the constant vibration seemed so loud against the tense silence emanating from his passenger.

"Beautiful isn't it?" he asked, gesturing to the deep azures of the sea, far beneath them.

Virgil jumped at the sudden sound and closed his eyes, determined not to let his panic show. "Yeah," he said softly, not moving his gaze away from the passing dots of green, signifying various tropical islands.

Jeff took a deep frustrated breath. Conversation had been hard going even before their departure from England. "Your Grandmother will be pleased to see you," he commented.

"Hmm," Virgil gave a small nod but didn't elaborate.

"Son…." Jeff paused, unsure how to word what he wanted to say without causing discomfort in the cockpit as well as silence. "I know things have been tough. I know they're going to be tough for a bit longer but they will get better now."

Jeff caught movement out the corner of his eye and turned to see Virgil twisting in his seat to face his father. Jeff's elation at the progress from dark, gloomy silence soon faded when he saw the hollow sadness in Virgil's eyes, "Yeah, course they will." His words were belied by the complete lack of any belief in them.

And when Virgil turned back to staring out the window, Jeff felt his heart sink a little further. Ever since this rescue started, all he'd wanted was for it to end. Now, just when he thought it was finally over, it was becoming more and more apparent that it wasn't over at all; in fact, it was only just beginning.

XxxxX

"I'm telling you, John, it wasn't me!" Alan screeched at his older brother. "I was god knows how many miles away and damned busy too! How could it possibly have been my fault that Brains decided to hack into MI 5's system!"

Gordon cradled his head in his hands, this argument was beginning to get out of hand and his head had started to pound, probably due to the lack of sleep. He risked a glance up, to look between his two blond brothers and was surprised to see John staring at him, suspicion written all over his face, "What?" he asked in his best innocent voice.

"Don't give me that!" John replied, his grin askew. "You thought you'd got away with this because everyone's more worried about Virgil right now. Well, I'm sorry to disappoint you but you didn't; elephants don't forget, remember, and this innocent act isn't fooling anyone, least of all me. You know something, Gordy," he pointed a finger in his aquanaut brother's direction and then turned back to Alan, "and if the pair of you don't tell me the truth then Tin-Tin and Brains will take the rap for this."

"Whoa! Now, hold on a minute!" Alan butted in, "Who said anything about Tin-Tin?"

"Oh, come on, Alan! Don't take me for a fool!" John's tone was determined and he wasn't prepared to give up just yet. He tried to calm himself. "Look, guys, I understand why you did what you did, okay? And so … maybe it wasn't the smartest way of getting the information we wanted but you got us a lead, that was the important part. Without that information from that recording, we might not have reached Virgil in time." John paused, watching his younger brothers' expressions darken at the very thought. "You have to tell Dad the truth," he encouraged. "He's coming home today so it's the perfect opportunity to come clean."

"Look, John, we don't know what you're talking about," Alan kept up the innocent act but John was unperturbed.

"Yeah, John," Gordon nodded, agreeing with the shortest action that would enable the conversation to end. "Who died and made you big brother all of a sudden?" He realised what he'd said as soon as the words left his mouth and had the grace to look away, abashed and mumbling an apology, "Sorry, I didn't think…"

John heaved a sigh, "Look guys," he protested, "I'm not trying to muscle in on Scott territory here, I'm just trying to get to the bottom of this. Scott's got a lot on his plate right now, he's worried enough already and the last thing he needs is more stress from you two. Just do the right thing, okay?"

"Does it really matter how we got our hands on the information?" Gordon asked, rubbing at his bleary eyes and sitting forward. "Like you said, we got it, that's the main thing."

"You want me to tell you the most important word in that sentence, Gords?" John smirked like the cat who'd got the cream. Gordon had just inadvertently revealed all. "We." He paused for effect. "Not 'he' or 'they' but we."

"He meant 'we' in the wider sense, John," Alan was quick to defend his brother but the accusing glare at Gordon said it all. "Look, I don't see what the big fuss is about."

"Me neither!" John grinned, "So just tell me."

"Fine!" Gordon mumbled, running a hand through hair that, despite abundant washers, still carried what Gordon thought was a faint smell of smoke. "Alan talked Tin-Tin through the hacking process, it was nothing to do with Brains or me, for that matter, but sometimes y'gotta do what y'gotta do and I back him one hundred and ten percent."

"See? That wasn't so hard, was it?" John replied, sarcasm in his voice. He was actually a little relieved that he was making progress and hoped he was doing the right thing, trying to lighten Scott's stresses by taking a few on himself. "Now, bypassing the fact that you broke god-only-knows how many laws, what would you have done if they managed to trace your little hacking expedition back to International Rescue?"

"John, I really don't need a lecture from you; we did what we had to do. Virgil is back and you said he's doing fine so right now that's all that matters," Alan shuffled forward in his chair as Gordon hovered at his side, already making an effort to get closer to the door. "We've got stuff to do before Virgil gets home and the last thing we want is Attila the Scott on our case, so if you don't mind…" he nodded towards the door.

"Hold it!" John warned, glaring at the both of them and daring them to move. "You've got two choices, bro," his reply came from the TV screen turned radio. "You either have the lecture from me and I'll make it quick and painless or you let Dad or Scott have the honor and they'll still be bending your ear this time next century."

"Fine, fine!" Alan waved a hand. "Come on, let's hear it." He rolled his eyes as he sat back in his seat and held an arm out pointing for Gordon to do the same. "Make it quick!"

"Did you think about the repercussions?" John's flicked between them reminding Gordon of how their father would reprimand them both for playing silly tricks when they were younger.

"John, we thought it through. We decided on what we thought was best. We did it. End of story," Alan shrugged. "The advantages outweighed the risks and you can't sit there and tell me that you wouldn't have done exactly the same thing," he was fast approaching a state of exasperation with his older brother. "Sometimes you've got to…"

"Break the law?" John filled in for him, eyebrow raised for effect. "Tell lies? Get other people into trouble?"

"Bend the rules," Alan finished, rolling his eyes at John's sarcasm. "We made an informed decision."

"Good for you," John nodded, his tone, as ever, thick with derision. "Now stand by it, face the consequences and don't let Tin-Tin and Brains take the rap for your … informed decision."

Alan scowled and studied his brother, cocking his head to one side. "Okay, you've made your point. I'll talk to Dad when he gets home."

"Good," John nodded his approval. The transition from stern superior to concerned brother was almost as smooth as if Scott had been the one to reprimand them, "Now, I suggest you find Scott before he finds you."

"Yeah, yeah," Alan waved a hand at his older brother, not taking his insinuation seriously. "Whatever."

XxxxX

Scott Tracy didn't often get nervous but as he watched his father's private jet circle the island before reaching the correct approach angle, he began to feel his stomach churn. Perhaps it wasn't nervousness as much as it was apprehension. His father had spent a lot of time with Virgil over the last few days, trying to piece together what had happened from the few snippets of information that Virgil had divulged but most of all, offering as much comfort and support as possible. If it had been up to Scott, he would have been right by his brother's side too but he knew, just as his father knew, that someone had to keep the business ticking over and Scott was expected to lead by example.

His father had done his best to keep him informed and Scott had even spoken to Virgil once or twice himself, but the conversations hadn't done anything to assure him that his brother was anywhere close to any semblance of recovery. In fact, if anything, he got the distinct impression that Virgil was avoiding him. His younger brother used the time difference as a blatant excuse to avoid calling and on the few occasions when Scott had managed to get through to him, Virgil had appeared subdued and uncommunicative with the result that their conversations were short and awkward. When Scott considered it, he wondered if maybe that was why his stomach churned so mercilessly. Either way, his gut was telling him that Virgil's problems weren't as easily rectified as his father proclaimed.

As Scott watched the rubber wheels of the jet brush against the hot tarmac, he hoped with all his heart that attending the funeral had been therapeutic for Virgil and that he was ready to start healing. He'd seen it before; men unable to let go, destroyed by circumstances beyond their control. The last thing he wanted was to see his brother so crudely shattered.

The jet taxied to a stop and Scott approached, aware that Alan and Gordon were jogging over, having abandoned their positions. As the hatch opened and Virgil appeared in the frame, Scott heard an audible gasp behind him. Turning, he saw Tin-Tin standing alongside Alan with a hand over her face, aghast at the sight of Virgil's battered appearance. Scott understood her shock, to him the swelling, cuts and bruises had diminished a lot but for Tin-Tin, it was the first time she'd seen Virgil and she only had Alan's woeful descriptions to prepare her. Scott swallowed and waited for some kind of reaction from Virgil.

There was an awful, tense silence before Virgil swallowed and forced his trembling lips to smile, "Is it that bad?" he joked. Scott closed his eyes, hoping that one of his younger brothers wouldn't agree in a clumsy, inconsiderate retort.

"No, of course it's not," Gordon had a little more decorum than Scott gave him credit for and shook his head, "I've seen worse." He paused, "And, it's healing, it's a lot better than before."

Virgil was grateful for the reassurance and began to descend the retractable staircase towards the ground. His movements were stiff and slow, prompting Scott to meet him halfway. "Let me help," he said, offering Virgil a supportive arm.

"No," Virgil's reply was sharp. A lot sharper than Scott expected. His earlier worries came back to the forefront of his mind. "I can do it."

Scott stepped back but glanced at their father in despair, confused by Virgil's apparent irritation. Jeff just shook his head, advising Scott to let it drop for now, "Well, Brains and I could certainly use a hand, Scott," he smiled, passing his eldest sons a few holdalls to carry.

As soon as Virgil's feet hit the ground, Tin-Tin came forward and enveloped him in a hug. "Easy, honey," he sighed, wincing against the pressure on his chest. "It's just a few bruises." He looked up to Alan, expecting to see a jealous glint in his youngest brother's eye but there was only compassion and concern. He managed a smile before extracting himself from Tin-Tin's hold with gentle but firm movement. "I'm fine," he swallowed, looking directly into her eyes.

"Oh, but Virgil," Tin-Tin cooed. "Your face…." Her gaze drifted from his eyes to blemishes caused by the stitches and his yellow jaw.

"…is definitely an improvement." Alan finished for her, stepping forward and putting an end to any superfluous pitiful conversation. "I like it," he smiled.

Virgil smiled his thanks to his youngest brother, it was good to see that some things never changed. "Thanks," he managed to get out through a sudden shudder to his chest. His grin didn't reach his eyes, in fact, it didn't come close but it was there, nonetheless. Alan was gentle as he wrapped his arms around his big brother and resisted squeezing him tightly.

"I bet you just love all those colors," Gordon commented, stepping forward to get a closer inspection of the sickly colours scattered across Virgil's face and embracing him with caution.

"Boys," Jeff paused in passing Scott another bag and looked up, "Brains and I could do with some help here." With dutiful nods Gordon and Alan moved to the other side of the jet, helping Jeff to unload and Scott moved towards Virgil, brushing his hands together as he went.

"It's so good to see you," Scott smiled. To his critical eye, Virgil was far too pale, he'd lost weight, and his eyes still had a look of bewilderment about them, as if maybe it hadn't really sunk in yet. "We've missed you," Scott grinned, taking a step forward to flop a welcoming arm round Virgil's shoulders. When Virgil took a step back, squirming away from any meaningful contact, the pain was like a physical slap across the face, especially when everyone else's embrace had been permitted.

"Um…" Virgil coughed, clearing his throat. "I'm really tired, what with the flight and everything. I think I'm going to lie down for a few hours," he waved an arm towards the villa in a slow circular motion.

"Sure," Scott felt disheartened and could only nod. "Can I do anything?" he asked, trying to be helpful.

"Stop walking on eggshells," Virgil's reply drifted up to Scott's ears on the soft breeze but it didn't really penetrate his thinking until Virgil was making steady but painfully slow progress towards the house.

Frowning Scott started to go after his brother but he'd barely moved an inch before his father stopped him, grasping his arm and offering him words of advice, "Just leave him, Son, he needs some time. He's taking all this very hard."

"How is he really?" Scott asked, watching his brother retreat with such anxiety that Jeff felt his heart constrict at Scott's turmoil. "I mean, how's he coping? Has he said anything? How did the funeral go?" Scott asked, almost afraid of what his father was about to tell him. He had to know, though. He had to at least try to understand what Virgil was going through and just how his brother was handling all this. "I thought it might help… y'know, give Virgil a chance to say a proper goodbye."

"So did I," Jeff mused, "The funeral was hard going, it took a lot out of him but he handled himself very well."

"Did he say much?" Scott asked, wanting and, more than that, needing to know every detail. He felt guilty that he hadn't been able to support his brother himself and needed to know exactly how Virgil had coped. "About Luke or…" he trailed off, hoping for his father to pick up the thread of conversation.

Jeff heaved a long, heavy sigh that didn't bode well for his reply. Scott's gut began to churn harder.

"He hasn't said anything about what happened," Jeff admitted, running a hand over his face. "I tried to talk to him but… he's not ready yet. It's too raw."

"But, he must've said something!" Scott exclaimed, his brow furrowing in surprise and distress. His tone carried a slight edge to it, which Jeff disliked. It was almost critical. "He must've told you about Luke?" Scott's eyes clearly expected some kind of revelation.

"He doesn't want to talk about him, he just wants to forget all this ever happened." Jeff found himself saying, his tone morose and defeatist, something that Jeff Tracy rarely exuded. "As soon as I mentioned Luke's name…" he shook his head, "I could see his eyes change and then…. Nothing."

"I can't believe it," Scott muttered. "He's usually … I should have talked to him, I should have stayed with him! Made him listen to me!" he exclaimed, feeling responsible. "Didn't he talk to Luke's family at the funeral?"

Jeff shrugged his shoulders, "There was only his fiancée, Lisa, and Luke's son, Virgil had every intention to talk to them but when it came to it… he was too upset. To be brutally honest, Scott, he was in no fit state anyway." Jeff paused, eyeing his eldest son in uncertainty. He hoped that he was doing the right thing in telling Scott all this. "Virgil's devastated that Luke died and it's almost as if, as a response, he's shutting down. He doesn't talk unless he's spoken to, he spends all of his time in a world of his own and he's hardly slept or ate since we arrived at Penelope's."

"He's acting like one of us has died!" Scott exclaimed, his frustration evident from his tone of voice.

"We can't even begin to understand the pressure they were under when they were trapped down there, Scott." Jeff's frown deepened and he looked in the direction Virgil had left with a wistful expression. "He's grieving for someone he put a hell of a lot of trust in. Someone who trusted him in return, and someone who, despite his best efforts, he couldn't save. The situation forced them together and they obviously built up quite a relationship."

"You think this is survivor guilt?" Scott's eyebrows climbed.

"No, I think it's Virgil trying to cope with everything the only way he knows how," Jeff took in a deep breath. "He feels numb, he's still in shock. Right now, he needs us to be patient with him."

Scott let out a long sigh of frustration, "I feel so useless… I just don't know how to help him when he's so intent on isolating himself."

"You can't, Scott," Jeff's tone was sympathetic, "not until he's ready to be helped."

"I knew he'd been upset and maybe even a little despondent, I mean that was to be expected. I knew things would be tough but I had no idea… I never expected him… not like this… He's not coping is he?" Scott's concern was obvious, his brow was furrowed, his eyes so clear, telling of his internal pain at seeing his closest brother in such ill-concealed heartache.

Jeff let out yet another sigh of his own and then shrugged, "He's trying. It's hard for him, he's been… quiet, withdrawn. Conversation is like getting blood out of a stone but we have to respect that after everything he's been through, he's…. upset, and that's perfectly normal. Like I said, he's grieving. He was talking about taking a vacation for a while, maybe seeing Luke's family. He mentioned something about a promise he had to keep and that he wants to meet with Luke's fiancée, especially after the funeral, but that's something for the future. He needs some time to come to terms with things before he makes any decisions. A hell of a lot has happened over the last week and a half. And not just to Virgil, either. We've all been through the wringer on this one."

Scott offered his father a small nod. "I guess." He paused. "I'm worried, Father. I'm really worried about him… he's so distant, it's like he wants to isolate himself …. away from me" he struggled to articulate himself. "He's avoiding me, I know he is but I don't know why. It feels like I've got him back just to lose him all over again."

Jeff shook his head and placed a firm hand on Scott's shoulder, squeezing a little. "I know how you feel; he's shutting all of us out at the minute but I promise you, Scott, that isn't going to happen. There's not a person on this island who'd let it, you and I included." He smiled and squeezed Scott's shoulder a second time. "Here," he said, passing his eldest son the white paper bag he'd been holding in his free hand. "It's Virgil's medication. Why don't you take it to him?" Scott hesitated before taking the proffered bad and smiling his thanks at his father.

As Jeff watched Scott make his way towards the villa, his heart lurched. During the time they'd spent together in England, Virgil had stubbornly refused his help to the point where Jeff's frustration was beginning to fray the edges of his temper. Time after time his offers of assistance had been rejected and instead he'd been forced to watch as Virgil isolated himself in an unseen cocoon of sorrow. He hoped with all his heart that Scott would have greater luck in breaking that protective shell than he did.

He was pulled from watching Scott disappear into the house as Alan, Gordon and Tin-Tin appeared in front of him, looking decidedly nervous.

"Dad," Alan began, hopping slightly from one foot to the other. "The luggage is done. We were wondering if we could talk to you…" he swallowed and glanced out to the sea. "In your office." He suggested.

"It's important." Gordon tagged on.

Jeff nodded, about to suggest they head inside when the sight of his mother caught his attention. Her stride purposeful as she made her way across the tarmac, Jeff could tell she wasn't happy in any way, shape or form. "Boys, can this wait?"

No-one got a chance to reply.

"Jefferson!"

XxxxX

Scott tapped on the door to Virgil's room, soft at first but harder when he got no response. "Virgil?" he asked. "Virgil it's me. Dad asked me to bring your medication up to you." There was no reply and he tried the door but found it locked. "Virgil? I know you're in there."

There was a soft click as the lock slid back but the door didn't open. Scott waited a few seconds to see if Virgil was going to let him in but when the door remained closed he decided that the unlocking was invitation enough. He opened the wooden panel with slow controlled caution, ready to retreat depending on Virgil's reaction. "Virg?" he peered around into the room, automatically looking to the bed for any sign of his brother.

To Scott's surprise the bed was empty and instead Virgil was stood by the window, staring out at the swaying waves and feeding paper into the desktop computer system. "Hey," Scott ventured inside. "You okay?"

"I'm not due any meds for another hour, at least," Virgil replied. His tone wasn't angry or snappy but it was curt, brusque even, and Scott felt the first tingling of frustration hit his spine.

"Well, I'll leave them here then," he said, placing the bag on Virgil's dresser and trying not to appear as ruffled as he felt. He was half tempted to leave, having fulfilled his purpose but yet he wasn't prepared to let Virgil succeed in alienating himself entirely. "What are you doing?"

Virgil stiffened. "Brains wants me to look over the Mole with him, I thought I might as well make a start."

"You don't have to do that yet," Scott frowned. Virgil's behaviour was causing him great concern and he entertained the idea that this was only a diversion tactic, remembering what his father had said about Virgil's desire to 'forget'. "You've not been home an hour. Just relax for a while, the doctor said no stress."

"Do I look stressed?" Virgil turned to face Scott but the comment was sharp and carried bite.

Scott bit his lips together in order to stop himself firing a retort back and rising to his brother's provocation. "Look, Virgil," he sighed. "Have I done something to offend you?" he asked, holding Virgil's gaze. "Because you're obviously angry with me for some reason but I don't know what I've done. Maybe if you tell me then I can start putting it right and we can deal with this together." He hoped Virgil would pick up on the hint.

"What?" Virgil frowned in confusion but then winced as the facial movement pulled on his stitched face. "No," he shook his head but that caused pain in his neck and he had to stop. "I'm not angry with you. I'm sorry if I gave you that impression."

"You're not?" Scott's surprise was genuine. He walked the short distance to Virgil's bed and perched on the edge. "Well, you're doing a damned fine job of snapping my head off every time I open my mouth."

Virgil clutched his abused chest and lowered himself in to the comfort of the leather desk-chair, only relaxing when the pain of movement subsided a little. Without a word, he continued with his work at the computer, ignoring Scott and taking a much needed few moments to think.

Seconds passed before Scott got up, moving to stand alongside Virgil's desk, peering over his shoulder slightly. "Virg, I think I deserve an explanation," he urged.

"I've said I'm sorry," Virgil replied, his tone contrite but still carrying an edge. Scott noticed that his hands were starting to tremble a little. "I don't know what you want me to say. It won't happen again." He paused to flick through some images of the scans that Gordon had completed the night before.

There was what seemed to Scott to be a long silence as he considered the situation.

Virgil broke it, speaking with such clarity that he took Scott by surprise, "Looks like the motors are going to need re-fitting but we would've had to go over them anyway after the hammering the air recycler took. The fusion reactor's going to need work on the shielding too. Once we open it up," Scott's brow furrowed in alarm, to Virgil machines were living objects, usually women, but certainly not 'its'. "I think we're going to find the integrity of the drill bit has been compromised, looks like it's buckled under the pressure, here." Virgil held up a pencil to the screen, pointing out the small rumple in the smooth line on the x-ray-like scan. "Was it knocked off the undercarriage?"

Scott looked at his brother, stunned by the sudden technical confidence he exuded. It was obvious to him that Virgil was hiding behind his engineering expertise but he wasn't sure that broaching the subject would help either. It certainly hadn't done their father any good.

"Uh … no, I don't think so. Gordon and Alan loaded her up, they didn't report any problems but then again, I was a little preoccupied at the time… worrying about you," Virgil appeared uncomfortable at the direction the conversation was taking and turned to more mechanical scans of the buckled metal from the file, more than prepared to take solace in his work.

"We're going to need materials…."

"Virgil….," Scott couldn't keep this farce up any longer and moved to reach a hand out to Virgil's shoulder, surprised at the ferocity with which Virgil tensed. "Were you listening to me? You can't just shut us all out like this. I'm worried about you, say something."

"Uh huh," Virgil swallowed and cleared his throat. "If we get the materials on order as soon as possible then I think we'll be able to get all the repairs done in, say…. three weeks at the most." He paused, turning to face Scott, begging him not to keep pushing without saying a word. "Obviously, that's a very rough estimate. I've only just opened the file and it'll depend on how long the parts take and …." His thread continued, not taking the time to pause for breath.

"Virgil, stop it!" Scott frowned, his tone carrying more volume and severity then he'd intended.

"Stop what?" Virgil's eyes were as wide as his eyelids allowed them to open.

Scott sighed, "Stop…." He waved a hand towards the computer. "This."

"It needs doing, Scott," Virgil scoffed, shrugging off Scott's obvious concern. "I might as well get on with it."

"That's not what I meant… though you shouldn't be doing that either," Scott sucked in his top lip and grazed his teeth against it. "I meant…. avoiding the issue; you can't just isolate yourself like this. Say something! Yell, scream, cry – I don't care but do something!" He pleaded as he knelt down alongside his brother, on a level with him. "If I've done something to upset you, I want you to tell me." Scott hung his head, unable to look up. "Do you blame me for what happened?"

"What?" Virgil screeched, his eyes widening painfully. "No!" he denied with vigour, "No, of course I don't! Don't be ridiculous! This wasn't your fault."

"Then what is it?" Scott's confusion was plain, his eyes contained an anxiousness that spoke volumes.

Virgil let out a sigh that turned into a painful scoff of incredulity, "You don't understand. It's not something you've done, it's something you're going to do."

Scott's frown deepened as he tried to deconstruct that sentence into manageable pieces, he was unsuccessful and shook his head in confusion. "You're right, I don't understand. What am I going to do?" Virgil lowered his gaze, pulling at the dressings on his wrists like a child, ashamed of the punishment about to be handed to him. "Virgil?" Scott persisted. "Don't shut me out."

Virgil shook his head before slowly lifting his gaze to meet Scott's confused expression. "You know," he shrugged, one shoulder rising higher than the other, against the protest his battered ribs provided. "Talk," he mumbled, "about….stuff. Make me ..." He paused. "That's what you want, isn't it?" Virgil's tone became quiet and low, his words garbled through tight lips. "That's what Dad's been trying to do all week but I… I can't. I need to get my head straight first."

Scott's expression broke into a grin as he grasped his brother's knee and began to shake his head, "Is that what this is about?" he sighed. "Virgil…you're not stupid. You know you can't ignore it forever and yeah, you have got to face this at some point. But I can understand how you feel, you want to do it on your terms, when you're ready but that doesn't mean you have to shut us all out and do it by yourself."

Scott knew too, that it had a lot to do with Virgil regaining some control over his life again and after nearly two days of feeling vulnerable and powerless Scott couldn't blame him for wanting to do that. Virgil was a strong, resilient man and wasn't used to relying on other people or being the centre of attention, Scott could empathise with his desire to take his time and was ready to trust his brother to know when the time was right to set his demons free. After all, sometimes a few demons were required to remind us of our own mortality. Scott knew that only too well.

"Right now," Scott continued after a pause, "I'm just pleased that you're here at all. I've got no intention of pretending to know how you're feeling right now, but I do know this: whatever you need, whenever you need it, I'm never far away, okay?"

Virgil's lips curved into a small smile, as wide as he could muster. He was relieved that Scott understood and yet at the same time, felt incredible guilt for behaving so abysmally towards the brother he could always trust to understand him. "I'm sorry if I've been taking things out on you or you thought I was pushing you away. I guess…maybe I've been a little harsh, I didn't mean to … " he paused to consider how to articulate himself, " ignore you and I certainly don't blame you. There was nothing you, or anyone, could have done. I'm sorry if I made you think that." Virgil emphasised that point, knowing from the way Scott had broached the subject that it had obviously been something his older brother had thought about a lot.

Scott grinned, "Forget it."

"No," Virgil shook his head, "It was inexcusable. I'm sorry, Scott, I should never have ignored… I shouldn't have been so rude to you when you called. I don't know why…" he stopped to take a deep breath, "… I'm sorry."

Scott smiled and got to his feet. "It's already forgiven and forgotten." Scott's tone of voice signified that the apology was enough and that there need not be any further discussion of the matter, for which Virgil was grateful.

Nodding his understanding, Virgil turned his attention back to the screen in front of him. Picking up a pencil and, after a few seconds, beginning to make notes. Scott felt he'd done what he'd intended to do in beginning to make his brother realise that he didn't have to do this on his own nor, for that matter, right now. However, if Virgil wanted to concentrate on work, he was prepared to play along and he certainly didn't want the conversation to become too heavy, "Are you planning to make any improvements? Tin-Tin mentioned something about adding a kind of device like the Paralyser on Thunderbird Four."

Virgil hesitated and then began to shake his aching head, "Wouldn't work. It'd knock out everyone in the cabin and it's not practical to have breathing apparatus for genuine IR staff." Scott's nod spurred him on, "We could beef up security but you know what it's like in a rescue situation, you don't always have time to go through checks. I'll work on it but I don't see how any improvements could make much difference."

Scott found this difficult to digest. Normally, after a compromising situation, Virgil would be more than willing to go back to the drawing board and work until he found a solution of some kind. He'd even enjoy the challenge, throwing himself into anything that made the source of the problem less likely to occur again. "You wouldn't feel safer if we had more protocols in place to stop this kind of thing happening again?" Scott asked.

"Let me ask you something, Scott," Virgil replied in a calm, calculated tone. It was obvious he'd done a lot of thinking in England, "Would you feel safer if we stopped you going to the danger-zone alone because of what happened at the Ambro River?"

Turned around like that, Scott could see where his brother was coming from and offered him a smile in agreement. "Okay, I take your point." When Virgil didn't carry the conversation on further, Scott got the distinct feeling he was in the way. "Can I do something to help or do you want me to leave you to it?" Virgil looked up at him and raised an eyebrow.

"You could tell me what you did to your hand?" Virgil raised an eyebrow and gestured down to the bandaged limb, hidden from sight thanks to a long sleeved sweater.

"I'll go," Scott decided, ignoring his brother.

"You might've fooled Dad with that yarn about getting it trapped in the wreckage of the jet but you didn't fool me," Virgil replied, a smile pulling at the edges of his damaged face. He paused as Scott edged closer to the door, his discomfort at the subject of conversation obvious. Virgil watched him out the corner of his eye.

"Let me know if you need a hand with those schematics," Scott attempted to change the subject.

Virgil continued to make notes, not turning to look at Scott but at the same time, not needing to. He ignored Scott's words just as Scott had ignored his, he wasn't prepared to let his older brother off that easily. "Did you hit him?"

Scott let out a soft sigh as he shook his head at Virgil's perseverance. "No," he replied eventually. "I'm telling the truth, I hurt my hand in the wreckage of the jet, just like I told Dad."

"So if you didn't actually hit him, how many millimetres off his face were you?" Virgil was unperturbed.

"I'm leaving," Scott announced before a short pause. "Just do me a favour, huh?" Whether Virgil agreed or not, he had every intention to vocalise his wishes. Thankfully, Virgil offered him a small nod, accompanied by a wince that was fast becoming customary. "I know you won't be able to tear yourself away from that just yet," he gestured to the paperwork around the computer. "But don't work too long at it. You've got to take care of yourself and that means plenty of rest."

Virgil chuckled at his older brother's concern; it no longer felt oppressive but instead reassuring to know that Scott would be keeping an eye on his recovery. "I will," Virgil promised, raising a hand to his heart. "I'll just finish this."

Scott headed towards the door, only to be called back.

"Scott," he turned at the sound of his name. Virgil was watching his older brother from his desk, with a look of concern and remorse. "It wasn't your fault. You know that, right?"

In truth, Scott wasn't convinced about that but he nodded, content to leave Virgil alone even though he knew that as soon as he closed the door, paperwork and mechanical scans would be the last thing on his brother's mind. Scott knew Virgil needed time and space to accept what had happened before he'd allow anyone to help him deal with the anguish and suffering he'd endured. It was like his father had said earlier; they could do nothing but provide a physical presence until Virgil was ready to use an emotional crutch.

XxxxX

"Jeff," Penelope greeted him with a delicate smile, despite her distress at Jeff's haggard and extremely harassed appearance. "How are you all? And, how's Virgil? Annie tells me he's doing extremely well, all things considered."

"Yeah, we're all fine," Jeff nodded. "Virgil's doing well. He's locked himself up in his room but I think he just wants to be on his own for a while; he'll be okay. Other than that everything's fine." Penelope nodded in consideration but Jeff paused and let out a deep breath, slumping in his chair. "That's not true. Coming back to the Island's been more stressful then I thought possible."

"How so?" Penelope's eyebrow arched in intrigue, her eyes ready with the required empathy.

"Oh, just… everything," Jeff heaved a heavy sigh, sitting back in seat. "Alan and Gordon have just confessed to…" he paused when he saw the expression on her face and the way she ducked out of view for a few seconds. "You knew didn't you?"

"Well, Tin-Tin did mention it, she was rather concerned at your reaction but you have to remember, Jeff, they were all worried for Virgil's safety," Penelope smiled, trying to argue their case as gently as she could. "They did what they thought was right and without that information… Well, I'm sure I don't need to tell you this, but Virgil may not be with you now."

"I know, Penny, I know," Jeff pulled his lips to one side in a pensive expression as he rolled his eyes towards the ceiling. "I'm not entirely sure Virgil's 'with us' now," he confessed. "He doesn't speak to anyone, not unless he's forced to." He paused to run a few fingers against his forehead, "I just don't know what to do anymore. I thought coming home would do him good but… it's changed nothing."

"Oh, Jeff," Penelope cooed, "Give it time. All you can do is support him as much as he'll allow it. He needs time to come to terms with things, he's grieving. When he's ready to accept your help, he'll find you." She could see the foreign expression of despair in his eyes, a melancholy, hopeless indication that he was reaching for the last straws of spirit to keep going.

There was a pause as Jeff thought long and hard about the last few weeks. Reaching for the scotch bottle, he poured himself a generous amount leaving Penelope in no doubt that it wasn't his first of the evening. "I can't help thinking if …" he trailed off, his voice suddenly lower than Penelope had ever heard before and his eyes avoiding her image.

"Stop that this instant!" her sudden, firm tone startled Jeff into silence and she offered him a purposeful gaze before she continued, "That isn't going to help you and it certainly isn't going to help Virgil," she said, adamant that she was right. "Virgil needs you to be strong. Don't doubt yourself."

"How can I not, Penny?" Jeff took a mouthful of scotch, feeling the reassurance of the familiar burn against his throat. It was perhaps due to the previous glasses of scotch that they were even having this conversation. It wasn't one he usually embarked on without serious persuasion of the alcoholic variety. "You've seen the state he's in, what kind of father…"

"I refuse to listen to this," Penelope held a manicured finger up to stop the sentence. "Jeff Tracy, I've known you longer than I'd care to recall, and I know that there's one thing in your life that ranks a lot higher than anything else: your sons. At this moment, your son needs your support, he needs your guidance and your love. We'll have no more of this self-pity, it's most uncharacteristic and not at all attractive in a gentleman of your stature. Your family is complete, Jeff, Virgil's home now, so make the most of it and don't waste time with regrets. Not even Jefferson Tracy can turn back the hands of time."

There were a few seconds of awkward silence where Jeff swirled the remaining scotch around his glass and Penelope was forced to consider whether she'd overstepped the mark. She breathed a silent sigh of relief when Jeff sat forward and put the glass on the desk.

"You're right, Penny, you're absolutely right. I'm sorry, I guess this is really taking its toll on all of us," he glanced up to her to convey his sorrow but quickly moved the conversation to safer grounds. "Tell me how things are going with the clean up operation. I'm sorry I didn't get to discuss it properly with you in England, but I didn't want to put any extra stress on Virgil. He's got enough on his plate right now, Luke's death hit him so hard."

Penelope hesitated, unsure whether their previous conversation had ended yet. "Oh, not at all, Jeff, I agree entirely," she smiled, making her decision to let sleeping dogs lie. "Virgil's been through quite enough already, I'm just glad the funeral passed yesterday without any unforeseen complications. And I can only offer my sincere apologies that Parker and I were away from Foxleyheath so frequently for the duration of your stay." She frowned and raised a tea cup to her lips, "But I'm afraid we had a rather pressing matter to deal with."

She paused again, before launching in to her report, "As you know, Sir Jeremy met with the Prime Minister, Jonathon Turner, for breakfast earlier this week and presented him with the evidence we'd gathered. By all accounts, Mr Turner wasn't pleased at the development. He assured Sir Jeremy that all testing would be stopped immediately and that he'd personally ensure the Home Secretary was removed from office. He kept to his word. The tabloids were, and still are, captivated by the news that Helen Quartz, the Home Secretary, had suddenly resigned and there would be a cabinet re-shuffle. However, there's another twist to the tale. Tomorrow morning's papers will report that she's been arrested."

Jeff straightened in his chair, "Arrested? The Home Secretary?" he frowned.

"Former Home Secretary," Penelope corrected. "Apparently so," her rich tones went on, carrying a hint of amusement at the situation but not missing a beat. There was always a sense of catharsis when good prospered over evil and if it involved a few political figures being brought down a peg or two then all the better in her view. "I've had my ear to the ground, so to speak, and it seems this little project wasn't Ms Quartz's only abuse of her powers as Home Secretary. The charges range from fraud to murder; it just so happens that a ballistics report matches the bullet that killed Dr Hunt to a gun in Quartz's own personal collection of shooting riffles and it seems she has no alibi for the murder."

"That's impossible!" Jeff exclaimed, "Hunt was killed with Virgil's gun, the boys saw it!"

"My dear friend," Penelope cooed. "When it comes to politics, nothing is impossible." She paused for effect, and to give Jeff some time to appreciate what she was saying, "There's been an internal investigation and having analysed the tape recording we provided, Special Forces at Thames House have ascertained that in fact it was Helen Quartz's voice on the tape. They concluded that the abbreviation HQ is probably a representation of her initials, and not Head Quarters as we'd assumed." She shook her head, disgusted at the turn of events. With a heavy sigh, she went on, "I spoke with Sir Jeremy again this morning, and he tells me that, after reviewing all the evidence, Jonathon Turner wasn't satisfied that her resignation was enough."

"I see," Jeff blinked, still comprehending the news. "What about the research center?"

"There's been a full inquest into funding from Secretaries of State as a result and, in light of the developments with regard to the recording, Mr Turner extended his sincere apologies to all those involved," Penelope replied with her usual command, though it was obvious she felt that apologies were of little importance given the atrocities that had occurred. "Sir Jeremy informs me that Mr Turner intends to compensate all those caught up in the disgrace but, for obvious reasons, wants to keep the scandal low-key. I'm sure the Security Services will be able to cover their tracks," she grinned with a hint of sarcasm. "Let's face it; it's not the first time they've white-washed the rest of the world into believing what they want."

"Any mention of us?" Jeff's expression was, once again, contorted into a frown.

Penelope's blonde hair fell to her face as she shook her head, "Not a word." Penelope interpreted the silent question and went on to answer, "As far as Jonathon Turner is concerned, the tape was sent anonymously to Sir Jeremy because it's a well known fact that he's a close ally of the Prime Minister's. I can't see that it poses a threat to International Rescue's anonymity."

Jeff was impressed and shrugged his acceptance, "That's good. At least something constructive has come out of all of this, even if it is only to stop it ever happening again. Could we be facing any awkward questions in the future?" he asked, pleased to turn his attention away from problems closer to home.

"No, not at all," Penelope assured him with a smile to ease his worries, "I have it on good authority that an old acquaintance of mine has been handed the task of dealing with any fallout." She raised a manicured hand to her chin, "And I'm certain Sir William Fraser will do the honourable thing; he wasn't at all pleased that his Service had been linked to such a disreputable incident."

"Well, I suppose it's in his interests to keep this low key if he doesn't want attention drawn to the links with MI 5 or the government," Jeff mused, feeling a little relaxed in the knowledge that International Rescue would escape unscathed from the shambles. "What about the plane crash, how have they explained that?" When Penelope looked up at him with a raised eyebrow and vacant expression, he frowned at her. "The jet," he clarified. "The one that crashed at Ferryhill."

Penelope only offered him an expressionless shake of her head, "Jeff, I assure you, I don't know what you're talking about. There was no indication, in any of the reports I've read, of a jet ever being at Ferryhill. The police report mentioned an arson attack at a disused air base but there was no recollection of any jets."

Jeff smirked at the underlying sarcasm and raised an eyebrow whilst stroking his chin, waiting for her to continue. "Good, so long as it stays that way," he muttered.

"It most certainly will," Penelope assured him. "I took the liberty of checking that none of the …." She took a moment to select the right phraseology, "instruments of deception or their operators, whom we were forced to rely on, were either traceable or inclined to talk about their experience."

"I see," Jeff never ceased to be surprised by her efficiency and conscientiousness. "So the K40 can't be traced to us?"

"No," Penelope shook her head, placing her tea cup back on the tray and patting her lips with a napkin before picking it up again. "There's no way Alan or Gordon could be identified in the purchase of it and the capital can't be traced."

"Good. That's fantastic," Jeff sat back, breathing a long sigh of relief as he felt the weight of the world lift from his shoulders. "Penny, we couldn't have done any of this without you, you've been a god-send," he looked at her with sincere eyes and a wide smile of appreciation. "I don't know how to begin thanking you."

"I'll tell you exactly how," Penelope smiled back at him. "Look after those sons of yours; continuing the marvellous job you do with International Rescue is more than thanks enough." The tea cup stopped half way to her lips and a mischievous sparkle lit up her eyes as her smile became roguish, "Although," she paused, "I do hear the Alps are rather nice this time of year."

XxxxX

The moonlight sparkled on the dark waters of the sea as a warm breeze brought the waves to crash on the soft, sandy beach. The sand was still cooling after the heat from the daylight hours and the sea still radiated warmth where it rolled to and fro. Living on a tropical island definitely had its benefits, especially when it came to relaxing. The warm sand between Scott's toes was soothing rather than irritating, and the light from the moon bounced around on the surface of the choppy water in time with the waves as they thundered against the beach, a few feet away.

After a humbling conversation with John and a private debrief with his father, Scott really felt he needed to be away from the hubbub of the house to evaluate what had happened over the last few days. John had relieved his guilt a little after accepting his apology with grace and goodwill, insisting that it was just unfortunate to be on the end of the majority of his older brother's displaced anger. He brought up a valid point though; just how close Scott had come to losing control and despite profuse apologies, Scott had to admit he'd come close to crossing a line from which there would be no return. That bothered him a great deal when he thought about how helpless he'd felt, knowing what Virgil was being subjected to. He was disappointed in himself for not handling things better. Not things. His feelings. He flexed his bandaged hand, waiting for the pain to shoot down his arm as if it was some kind of reminder or punishment for his actions.

He was deep in thought, replaying John's conversation and his father's words of wisdom whilst also analysing his plans for the future; the Mole needed work and equally, Virgil was going to need a lot of support. As Scott let the warm grains of sand filter through his fingers, his worries dissipated with slow surety. The fact that Virgil was even alive, let alone right there on the island was enough to inspire him. They'd lived to fight another day and though there would be scars of both the physical and the emotional variety, the important thing was that they'd survived. As a unit and also as a family. The rest, Scott decided, would come with time.

Time was the answer to all their problems according to most of the family members he'd spoken to, it would heal all ills and make everything right again. But nobody seemed to consider that time was an eternal concept and Scott couldn't wait an eternity for Virgil to return to his old self.

Scott's philosophising came to an abrupt end as he felt a soft spray of sand hit his back, accompanied with the sound of sinking feet getting steadily closer. He didn't look up to see who it was. He didn't need to. If the odd grunt of exertion and muffled, breathless moans weren't enough, the fact that the majority of the household seemed content to celebrate Virgil's home-coming without him narrowed down the suspects. Scott continued to stare out at the sea until his brother dropped to sit alongside him, breathless and unable to hold back sharp grimaces of pain. Scott thought back to his father's words about only being able to provide a physical presence and decided not to speak but rather to wait and see what Virgil sought from him first.

During the long minutes that followed, neither spoke. The moon made its journey across the skies and the choppy waters became calm, causing the moonlight to cease in her dance and settle over the sea in pools of silver.

After a few more seconds of silent contemplation, as they both watched the moon's slow advance across the water, Scott began to feel the wind brushing Virgil's hair in a soft caress of his bare arm. He looked down to see that his brother's tear-stained face rested against his shoulder, his body weight leaning in to Scott's frame and his eyes closed as if he was drawing strength from Scott's proximity.

Scott placed his arm round his brother's shoulders, pulling Virgil with gentle, unnecessary, pressure, into his embrace. He lowered his cheek to rest on top of where Virgil's head fitted neatly into the crook of his shoulder like part of an old jigsaw clicking into place.

No words were spoken.

No words needed to be spoken.

The action was enough and spoke volumes more than words ever could.


End file.
